


What hearts and tongues are for

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Anxious Aziraphale, Aziraphale-centric, BAMF!Aziraphale, Canon - Good Omens (Book & TV Combination), Cherub!Aziraphale, Eventual Aziraphale/Crowley, Gen, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Questionable adherence to scripture, Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: If Aziraphale was to be described by certain members of the angelic Host in metaphorical terms, they might say that he was trying to paint a masterpiece but colouring in all the wrong bits. Being stationed on Earth does not help matters. Aziraphale always tries to do right by God; over six thousand years he must learn what it means to be himself.Or:Another navel-gaze-y look at Aziraphale over the millennia and how he comes to choose (or not choose) a side of the fence.**Note: Rating will change as the story progresses, and tags will be added as they become applicable**This probably will not be an issue, but just to be on the safe side, please do not re-post this story anywhere else. This is the only place I post any fic. Thank you. :)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Angels (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & God (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Fics





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This story is Aziraphale-centric because I relate to him **so much**. Crowley and his/Aziraphale's relationship is integral to the story, of course, but not the primary focus for a lot of it. I do not claim that this is a particularly hot take or particularly unique from other things that have been written, but I've had a lot of time on my hands recently (ha, haven't most of us?) and decided to put some ideas down 'on paper', as it were.
> 
> 2\. Title from 'Concrete' by Thea Gilmore
> 
> 3\. This is going to be a mish-mash of book canon, TV canon, and head-canon. Hold on to your butts. 
> 
> 4\. In the prologue, especially, I lean into the fact that angels and demons are beings without a particular sex or gender. Therefore I've tried to reduce confusion in the text (that could arise by using the same gender-neutral/non-binary pronouns for every character) by trying to diversify the neutral pronouns a little. I have no personal experience with non-binary pronouns, apart from using them for people I know who prefer them - therefore I've done some reading up to avoid accidentally sticking my foot in something, but please please please don't hesitate to let me know if I've gone wrong somewhere. Obviously anachronism is going to feature heavily in the choices I've made, but I've done my best! :) I am, however, fully aware of my limitations in writing about non-binary/gender-neutral characters. Later in the story our main characters mostly begin to use the pronouns provided them in the novel/TV series.
> 
> 5\. In terms of angelic hierarchy I've played fast and loose with it (e.g. Seraphim and Archangels here are one and the same, with 'Archangel' more of a descriptor than a true title of an angel's place in the hierarchy). I've kept a general angelic hierarchy but have not used the three spheres/nine choirs idea. So if you're a stickler for any particular religion's angel lore, I'm afraid I'm kind of crapping all over it (but hopefully in a good way?). In any case, I mean no offense; it's all in the name of fun and maintaining my sanity during self-isolation!

_In the beginning - the true Beginning - She created angels. The first were the Seraphim, whom she called her Archangels. Seven in all, they learned at Her side what She envisioned for the universe: the beauty, the entropy, and the seeds of the Great Plan. The Archangels were caretakers, guides, messengers, architects, record-keepers, healers. After them came the others: seven Cherubim, Her closest advisers and the Thrones, peacemakers and settlers of disputes. Later came Dominions; Virtues; Powers; Principalities, and the millions of individuals rounding out the Host and singing Her praises. Each rank of angels was carefully crafted; shaped and willed into creation by the Almighty, and placed under the care and tutelage of the Archangels. They worked together in a seamless hierarchy to realize Her vision for the universe, each with their role to play. The highest were models to the lower, admired above all else for their closeness to the Almighty. They were the first to hear Her instructions, the ones to sit at Her side and commune with Her directly._

_For all the knowledge imbued in angels by the Almighty, however, only one possessed the ability to envision for themselves what might come or what could be._ Light-bringer _, whose name was Lucifer. Some oddity of creation imbued co with a foresight no other angel possessed, and it was a source of entertainment and wonder. Angels of all ranks flocked to the central forum to hear co's musings on Creation. The Light-bringer was a favourite of the Almighty, and wove impossibly ornate patterns in the expanding Universe using the simplest of ingredients; seemingly unimportant particles and gases which, when nurtured properly, rendered bright, beautiful stars. Lucifer and co's assistants arranged each individual star into carefully-placed constellations, which served to pay homage to as a chronicle of Her creations, written in language known to Her and the Host. When Lucifer drew a crowd in the forum laughter rang freely as angels partook of or simply observed fierce yet playful debates among the Archangels - fiercely loyal, stubborn Gabriel, who argued hirself in circles to the delight and adoration of the Light-bringer; stoic, pensive, quietly immovable Uriel; even Michael, stern and often rigid in their shepherding of other angels, shimmered with amusement at the visions and ludicrous stories Lucifer could evoke. The four of them shone, six iridescent wings overlapping and tracing intricate, electric patterns in the air when they gathered close. The dialogues, amusement for lower ranks, were often performed for the three remaining Archangels - content, peaceful Raphael; severe Raguel, and the ruminative Ananiel - in often vain efforts to coax the trio on side._

_So it had been since the beginning. Heaven was industrious, harmonious, and joyful. It was taken for granted that this was how it would be for ever. No angel save for one had any reason to believe differently. Upon the advent of Time angels would, as it marched on, reflect on memories of the harmonious Beginning and regret its passing._

\--------------------------------

"Were I not omnipotent I would still know to find you here." The voice was gentle and amused, but it jolted Aziraphale to attention like a crackle of electricity. They shifted their lower pair of wings minutely, ensuring the curtain of white the wings formed around their being was arranged as they preferred. She had arrived in a nearly silent displacement of atoms, and Her appearance flickered through several configurations before settling on one She favoured: tall, with one pair of gentle eyes which belied Her otherwise stern countenance. She gestured for Aziraphale to subside, and folded Her form to settle elegantly on the soft, mossy floor beside them. "Though you do not often come here when the others are not occupied elsewhere," She added knowingly.

Aziraphale allowed their appearance to shift, presenting the aspect which most closely matched that of the Almighty. "No," they agreed simply. The grove was dense and provided a wonderful refuge for mediation and reflection, but that made it very popular with the Host. Aziraphale elected to visit when most of the others crowded the forum for a dialogue. "Did your committee meeting go well?"

She leant back on Her hands, her expression content. "Indeed. I was very pleased for a first attempt." Aziraphale watched Her curiously. "I asked the committee to work in two groups. I provided the building blocks and asked them to design an animal." _Animal_. Aziraphale tucked the word away; lately She had been most occupied with a specific Creation She had mostly kept quiet, and the committee She had formed of a select number of angels was helping in the design of new living things. That was all the Host knew, and the committee was sworn to secrecy. Not even Aziraphale and their fellow Cherubim, Her closest advisers, knew more than that. 

The design of living things was not entirely new, in and of itself; many small living things had been dotted throughout the Universe - but they were all very simple and of little interest, quite frankly. These animals must have been different. "And...what did the committee design?" they asked eagerly. 

The Almighty made a soft, amused sound. "They had very intriguing ideas," she said fondly. She gestured, and between them appeared the small image of the two animals. One had four impossibly gangly legs, which terminated in a round and flat foot split into two digits. Its body, with an odd lump on its back, was covered in hair; a long neck extended to a comparatively small long and narrow head. The other animal was much smaller and possibly even stranger in appearance - a flat, rounded protrusion from the head; four very short legs with webbed feet, and a sleek body. Aziraphale marvelled at them; they were certainly different from the primarily featureless, tiny living creatures they had seen before. "Perhaps not what I would have done," She admitted, "but the designs reflect the angels collaborating to form them. I love them, and for that reason they will find their place."

Aziraphale tilted their manifested head questioningly. "What are they called?"

"Ah," She said mysteriously. The images dissipated and Her expression shifted to one Aziraphale could not identify. "Now that I do not know." A pang of foreboding struck them at the response. Every thing that had been created had been made by Her Will and was therefore Hers to name. She had provided what was needed for the committee to design the new animals; therefore She must have in some way shaped what the committee had produced. They, too, were Hers. But something told Aziraphale not to press. "Where would you suppose they might find their place, Aziraphale?" She asked unexpectedly.

Aziraphale knew Heaven very well. They considered the two images they had seen, trying to imagine the animals in the gardens, or the rivers. "Will these new animals be placed in Heaven?"

"No; that is why I have come to you, Aziraphale, but that will keep. However, if you were to provide them a habitat in Heaven, where would it be?"

"It would seem the small one might do well in water," they suggested at length."It has very small legs and may struggle to navigate on land. The large animal..." they thought on its design but upon reflection could be no more specific than, "It would be more successful on land. Its four legs are long and it would move more easily than the small one."  
She smiled briefly but reverted back to the mysterious expression Aziraphale could not place. "I imagine you are correct, particularly about the small animal." The image of it appeared again and hovered between Aziraphale and the Almighty. "I intend for it to live a great deal of its life in water. But what if it should eschew water for an existence entirely on land?"

The question took Aziraphale aback to the extent they could formulate no response, and their inability to engage with Her question stirred their elaborate, brightly-burning ophanim into a faster, more anxious rotation. "Lord?"

She watched them with the same unreadable expression. "If this animal is designed for water but lives entirely on land, what then?"

To go against creation, against design - the idea was so ludicrous Aziraphale made several aborted attempts to respond. "If it disobeys it must be corrected."

She shook Her head, exuding calm, but there was an undercurrent to the conversation now that Aziraphale had never registered in any exchange they had had with the Almighty before. "Not a willful act of disobedience. An...unexpected development leading to this animal living its life in a way that is contrary to its intended function."

The idea spun 'round and 'round in Aziraphale's mind as they processed it. If not a willful act of disobedience the only other explanation they could think of was an error in design, and that was impossible. She did not make mistakes. Therefore there was no answer they could see to the question laid before them. They met her gaze apologetically. To not have an answer - or, at the very least, a suggestion - was shameful to their rank and role in the Host. "I am afraid I do not understand."

Aziraphale watched her reaction cautiously, but She did not appear disappointed or angry. She smiled at them affectionately, gestured to banish the image of the animal again, then reached out and brushed a hand against the alula of of one of their wings, allowing Aziraphale to feel Her lack of reproach at their non-answer. "Do not worry," She said kindly. "I am merely in a mood to meditate on hypotheticals." She rose and brushed nonexistent detritus from Her elaborate iridescent chiton. "I did have a purpose in coming to you, Aziraphale, as I mentioned. I realize this is within Gabriel's purview, but as he is presently engaged in a rather raucous dialogue I thought you might be willing to help."  
"Of course, Lord; I will gladly help in any way I can."

"I would like the Seraphim and Cherubim to proceed to the throne room; the success of the committee means I can move forward, and to do so I will need the support of the entire Host. The help of my Archangels and Cherubim in organizing the others will be vital. There is no particular need to make haste, but would you collect them?"

Aziraphale allowed their appearance to revert to its typical state. They bowed deeply before the Almighty. "I will go to the forum at once and inform Gabriel and the others when the dialogue has concluded." They waited until She had taken Her leave then negotiated their way out of the grove until they were able to spread their wings and take flight - pleased to have a task to complete but still, despite Her reassurance, feeling that they had failed - or at the very least fallen short - in their conversation with Her.

\--------------------------------

The endless expanse above the forum was shifting to vibrant pastel hues at the horizon, pockmarked with the star-builders' creations against the darkening backdrop of the celestial sphere, when Aziraphale silently paused between columns along the stoa, near enough to overhear the gathered angels' enthusiastic responses to whatever was being discussed. There was scarcely an empty space to be seen in the forum, the center of which was dominated by most of the Archangels. They were the focus of attention, circled by, Aziraphale noted absently as they sorted through the individual auras of the crowd, three Cherubim - Iophiel, Sachiel, and Ophaniel; the Thrones; the Virtues, and the Dominions. Lower ranks comprised the remainder of the gathered multitudes, no less invested in the dialogue. 

None gave any sign of noticing Aziraphale's arrival, which suited them perfectly well. Less attention from the others meant fewer chances to say something, or not say something, to make them the topic of teasing conversation or the recipient of befuddled silences. "A planet for each of us!" Lucifer was saying, co's multitoned voice at its most jovial. It tended to be so when the Light-bringer knew the gathered audience was truly hanging on every word, already convinced co was in the right. Extending their senses a little further, seeking the other Cherubim, Aziraphale felt Yomiel in the flowering garden; Kerubiel and Batariel were communing with a small group of Principalities near the tallest of Heaven's cascades. The Archangel Ananiel was not present at the dialogue either; xe was part of the Almighty's committee and would not be far away. Satisfied, Aziraphale glided a little further along the stoa and positioned their self far enough from the gathered crowd to avoid even the potential of being noticed, and tucked their upper pair of wings comfortably against their back to patiently await the end of the dialogue.

The central figures were Lucifer and Gabriel; Michael's aura, streaked with amusement, belied xyr grave countenance but xe did not appear to be actively participating. Whatever the context of this planetary debate, it had the lower ranking angels rapt. Aziraphale could see several of the record-keepers hovering with wings folded neatly, watching the dialogue unfold with no sign that they were, in fact, making any effort to archive the event. "...or a star! Personalized, perhaps using your own noxious gases," Lucifer was saying grandly. Laughter from the gathered ranks drowned Gabriel's stammered attempts at a response. Amusement tinged the edges of Aziraphale's aura. They liked the Light-bringer, but sympathized with Gabriel. The sole intimate interactions Aziraphale had ever had with Lucifer were stilted, had left them with the vague impression that the Archangel had spun a web of logic and imagination Aziraphale was hopeless to penetrate. They held private worries, too, that one day the Light-bringer would step too far. Co's ideas were grand and novel, but they led on occasion to co speaking to the Almighty petulantly and brazenly. She did not make any displeasure known to the Cherubim, but on those occasions Aziraphale very nearly felt compelled to speak up, to shine a better light on Lucifer's intentions and deflect any potential hurt feelings.

They had never actually done so. Though their four aspects were rarely in agreement, something in all of them quailed at the thought of speaking out in such a manner. The extension of their senses to their fellow angels never yielded any feeling that matched quite what Aziraphale felt when the Light-bringer spoke in such a manner, and so in those instances Aziraphale endured their strange discomfort and focused instead on the constant thrum of warmth and love, the connection to Her with which all angels had been imbued.

The gathered angels were beginning to disperse; Aziraphale realized they had either missed the conclusion of the dialogue or it had ended with Gabriel's inability to conjure a challenging retort. They silently chastised their self for becoming lost in thought. The record-keepers were gently roused to attention and politely collected imprints of emotion and memory from willing stragglers for archiving. As individual and small clusters of lower-ranking angels passed, Aziraphale shifted a little closer to a column; several of the angels shimmered respectful greetings but did not linger, too involved in mingling to exchange reflections and observations of the dialogue. Hints of colour at points of contact between angels spoke to the sharing; vivid swirling hues of amusement and introspection.

Sometimes Aziraphale entertained the idea of forging the type of connections enjoyed by other angels. They were friendly with the other Cherubim, of course; the sort of bond among beings created for the same high purpose. However, the deep love between the Archangels - obvious even between the quietest and most self-contained of them - was alien to them. Even their fellow Cherubim could boast deep bonds; Yomiel and Iophiel were often inseparable; moreover, the six of them were never short of companions of varying ranks. Something held Aziraphale back; part of them could not help but believe such intimate bonds could compromise the integrity of their privileged position, second in rank only to the Archangels. It was only proper for advisers to remain as objective as possible. The idea of intimate connections with fellow angels, then, flitted in and out of Aziraphale's attention at random and never lasted long - something of greater interest invariably presented itself and the idea would be lost to the expanse of Heaven.

Never mind the fact that mingling and sharing in a way other angels did would open their secret worries and fears to the Host. That thought was rather more daunting than Aziraphale cared to think about. "Aziraphale." The Archangel Raguel had broken from the crowd and drifted closer to Aziraphale's position in the stoa. Out of habit Aziraphale brushed their senses against Raguel's aura to gauge their present mien; colour only told so much. The Archangel was ablaze with high emotion but, as usual, accurately reading a higher-ranking angel the way they could read the lower, was impossible. "Socializing?" 

The Light-bringer intimidated with co's ideas and unmatched wit. Raguel intimidated because Raguel was the Almighty's disciplinarian and rarely allowed any angel to see through a rather opaque and stern facade. Aziraphale's ophanim spun a little faster, a reaction to the unexpected interaction, before they were schooled to calm. "Not quite," they admitted. "The Almighty has summoned the Archangels and Cherubim to Her throne room. I am merely -"

" _Proudly_ fulfilling your duty," Raguel surmised lightly. A few nearby angels vibrated faintly, sharing the jest. Aziraphale's discomfort at being at the attention of an Archangel and an openly staring audience nearly forced their ophanim to betray discomfort; the meek, bovine aspect of their form pushed to exert its presence. Once, when Heaven and Aziraphale were new and the Cherubim were temporarily under Raguel's tutelage, Aziraphale had said that they felt the greatest communion not with the Cherubim or other angels, but with Her. They had been chastised for being overly proud, and sternly counselled to cultivate humility. The memory was mortifying, and Aziraphale had prayed and affirmed their penitence and devotion to the Almighty, privately and in Her presence, to make amends. There had been no suggestion of any further correction; as Aziraphale had rambled through an explanation of their thoughts and apologies for their hubris the Almighty had laid quelling hands on their wings and easily forgiven them. However, it appeared now that Raguel had shared the anecdote among other angels. Or perhaps, Aziraphale cringed inwardly, the Archangel had had it archived.

"I do what She asks of me," Aziraphale replied humbly, "and obey with love for Her above all else." _We are on near-equal footing_ , Aziraphale chastised their self. Cherubim respected but did not prostrate themselves before Archangels; they were in some ways closer to God, and it was a status even the Light-bringer recognized. 

"Let them be, Raguel." Gabriel's commanding voice rose over the crowd. The other Archangels had approached without their notice; they did not take a side, but Raphael positioned hirself close to Aziraphale and offered a reassuring brush of their aura. "The Cherubim hold the Lord's favour more than most others. A word from Aziraphale and you will find yourself a forgotten angel of no rank." It was patently untrue, and Raguel would know it. However the warning in the voice of the Almighty's messenger was enough. Raguel extended a wing toward Aziraphale. "Merely a spirited debate," the Archangel demurred. "Is that not so?"

Aziraphale mirrored the gesture of peace and communion, but did not touch. "Of course," they said. Accepting the gesture at face value would save them further embarrassment before the Archangels, at the very least. "The Almighty has summoned all Seraphim and Cherubim," they addressed Gabriel instead. "She desires an audience in the throne room."

"Ah. Then shall I save you the journey?" Gabriel's aura dimmed for a moment, before brightening into its typical deep verdant hues. Aziraphale felt hir call shiver through the ether, and felt too the response from the Cherubim nearby as well as those at leisure throughout Heaven. "We shouldn't linger, then," Gabriel announced. Ze led the Seraphim from the forum; Aziraphale waited for Iophiel, Ophaniel, and Sachiel to assemble and departed in their company, shaking free their lingering discomfort and focusing instead on returning to Her side for news of Her plan for the _animals_.

\--------------------------------

Despite Raguel's chiding for their supposed pride, Aziraphale could truly not ever imagine choosing any other role than that which they had been given. They felt most like their true self, felt the most content, at Her side. She was a thinker; She was loving but reserved; She could certainly be fierce but preferred not to be so. Aziraphale emulated Her, and loved nothing more than to walk with Her in the gardens, or to sit at Her side and observe as She worked. Often they did so in silent communion; sometimes She would ask what Aziraphale was thinking, and would radiate affection as they stumbled a little in putting their many meandering thoughts into words. She did not show frustration, or bewilderment at their ideas the way other angels did. While other angels made Aziraphale feel as though they were somehow incomplete or wrong, She made them feel as though they were just as they should be.

Now, high above the rest of Heaven in Her throne room, the Cherubim and Archangels assembled - Archangels arranged before Her, and the Cherubim at Her feet and by Her side. Aziraphale tucked in close near an arm of the throne and accepted a friendly greeting nudge from Kerubiel. The Almighty lightly brushed their wing, allowing them to feel Her appreciation for their efficient work. They settled nearer contentedly. "My children," She said gently, "I have summoned you with good news. I am so very pleased, as you will be, that the time of Creation is nearly at an end."

Aziraphale absorbed the waves of astonishment from the others; knew their own was added to it. "Nearly at an end?" Michael echoed quietly. Xyr aura rippled with uncertainty and nearly-there tentative pleasure. "My Lord, do you mean..."

She smiled benevolently. "My creations are nearly complete. You have all served so very well. I have in mind one more project, one more element to put in place before the Plan enters the next phase. You will all be needed, not only for this final period of Creation, but for what comes next. Your trust, and your love, will be as essential as it has always been."

The astonishment did not abate. The purpose of angels since their beginning had been to help create. Angels placed stars; assembled planetary systems; developed atmospheric phenomena throughout the universe; tested and developed stone and minerals according to Her will. With Creation at an end what would possibly come next? A sensation not unlike the discomfort of being confronted by Raguel, the discomfort of being in the presence of the Light-bringer at co's most impertinent, stirred. Aziraphale could not decipher whether it was merely their own or the collective feelings of all assembled, but they shoved the feeling back before it could be felt by the others. The Almighty lightly touched their wing again; of course the sensation did not go unnoticed by Her. Aziraphale focused on Her calm, let it permeate and guide them. "The foundation for this last project has recently been laid," She said. "It is a planetary body I call Earth."

The Light-bringer visibly perked up. "The planet with the precise specifications. Surface seventy-five per cent water. Atmosphere seventy-eight per cent nitrogen; twenty-one per cent oxygen; 1 per cent argon; the rest -"

"Yes, thank you," Raguel interrupted brusquely. The tension broke as nervous amusement crested over the Archangels. She smiled along with them. "Your team did very well, Lucifer," She praised. "Earth will be my finest Creation in no small part due to your efforts."

"I knew You must have ideas for that planet," Lucifer continued keenly. "Its development is really the only one You have ever truly overseen."

She nodded benevolently. "I will share every detail the Host needs to know. Gabriel, my eldest."

Gabriel broke from the ranks of the Archangels and drifted closer. "Mother?"

"I would like you to inform the Host of Earth, my final Creation. It will be -"

No, that did not seem right. Not for something of this magnitude. Aziraphale reached out, the barest tendril of their aura, and touched Her hand. "Mother." They ignored the shocked horror from their brethren and did not look away from Her face. She did not appear surprised, or offended at their interruption, which gave Aziraphale courage. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Aziraphale," Michael said sternly, "are you questioning the Almighty?"

They did not look at Michael, but addressed Her in their response. "Of course not, Lord," Aziraphale promised. Their bovine aspect emerged, reinforcing their supplication. "I merely thought...well. Mother, if this is your final Creation, should the Host not hear it from You?" They silently communicated their idea to the other Cherubim; Kerubiel was the first to grow receptive, and the others quickly followed. "We are in agreement, Mother, if it is Your will. This is a moment of great importance. The Host should hear from you. I believe it is...too aloof to send it as a missive. I mean no offense to Gabriel, of course; I -"

She stroked a hand over the curled horns on their head; Aziraphale subsided at the sensation, satisfied that She felt he had said exactly the right thing. A quelling wave of love crested over the small audience and swept away building trepidation and confusion. "Gabriel takes no offense, Aziraphale." A quick glance toward Her Messenger confirmed it; Gabriel's aura was its usual hue. "I happen agree with you. I thank all of you for your very wise counsel; you are right, of course. I will address the Host."

\--------------------------------

The towering Great Hall was punctuated by a riot of colour; an impossibly diverse spectrum emanating from the gathering ranks. Light and shadow intermingling, magnificent iridescent wings - one pair, two, three - shivering and fluttering in a reflection of their bearers' anticipation and excitement; fiery and electric elements of each angel's design providing a dazzling feast for the senses. Receiving Her silent permission, Kerubiel, Batariel, and Yomiel broke from Her side and joined their favoured companions while they waited - Kerubiel to the gardeners; Batariel to the builders of waterways, and Yomiel to the Light-bringer and the Archangels. It was Aziraphale's instinct to remain close and so they did, many eyes open to watch their brethren at peace; ophanim spinning sedately as they basked in the warmth of Her presence.

Eventually the anticipation among the gathered angels reached a peak as the final stragglers took their places in the marble tiers. The Almighty raised a hand and the gathered angels turned their gazes in Her direction, stilled, and watched. _My children._ Her unspoken voice thrummed through the fundament of each angel. _The time has come to reveal to you my final Creation._ Aziraphale's upper wings shifted minutely. They knew only the few details the Almighty shared with the Cherubim and Archangels; Earth, the planet, and the new _animals_ \- it sounded rather wonderful to Aziraphale's mind. They anticipated beauty that would surpass everything else in the Universe. 

In the open expanse below the assembled Host an image appeared of a planet: not terribly different from the many other planets the architectural departments had assembled since the beginning, but striking nonetheless, perhaps because of its significance. It was deep blue, lush green, and ecru by turns. The image changed then, to a space filled entirely with colour - greens and blues here, too, but every colour an angel could detect in some form of plant life. The Host began to murmur appreciatively; Aziraphale felt joy swell in them as the approval of the Host rose to meet them. Their wings beat harder of their own volition; their aura burned just a little brighter. Organic matter everywhere. Heaven had one type of tree that was well-established outside the central meeting places and quarters; there was moss and grass, several different flowers in the gardens. But in the image She projected there appeared to be so much more of it. It was fascinating, and so beautiful. The space was surrounded by a high wall of stone, and beyond that stretched an expanse of desert, a harsh contrast to the life within the walls. Aziraphale shifted their appearance to allow their sharp-eyed avian aspect to take over, providing a closer look without requiring them to leave Her side. _The planet is called Earth, but the garden is called Eden_ She explained. _It will be home to many living things: animals and plant life._

"Animals?" Aziraphale cast out their senses; it had been Camniel, a Virtue, who had spoken. As if in response, a creature with dark wings appeared in the image. Many angels gasped, Aziraphale among them. It was beautiful. More elegant than the committee-designed animals She had shown them before. "What is that?" Zadkiel asked.   
The Almighty smiled. _The animals have no names. That will be a task set to these._

The Host watched the image of Eden, watched the greens flutter in an unseen, un-felt breeze until the image disappeared and was replaced by that of two figures. Simple by design, shaped more like the Almighty's assumed forms and the angels of the lowest ranks. The two figures had minor physiological differences, but appeared similar enough. _They are Humans. The Naming of all living things in Eden will be undertaken by them,_ she explained.

"Lord." The voice echoed in the Great Hall, projected so that all would hear. Self-assured and bordering on too confident, it was easily recognizable as the Light-bringer. The protective facet of Aziraphale's form surged minutely, its fierce leonine face transforming their appearance for a brief moment. "These are the creatures of which you have spoken so highly?" Protectiveness faded in the wake of their surprise. Aziraphale had been unaware She had shared more with Lucifer, at least, than with the other Seraphim or the Cherubim. _They are,_ She replied. _The Humans -_ man _and_ woman _\- are essential to my Plan. They will dwell in Eden._

"They are so small," Hanael commented. Nir fascination was obvious. The Almighty graced nir with Her attention. _Perhaps. But even the smallest of us can make great waves._ She allowed the Host to study the Humans with interest.

Lucifer spoke again. "And they are to name new Creations." Co did not sound fascinated. There was the undertone to co's smooth, charming voice which caused Aziraphale's bovine aspect to shift nervously, which made them feel that consuming discomfort no angels ever seemed to share. "They are to _name new Creations_ ; to take on the role of the Almighty."

To Her credit, the Almighty did not seem affected, and Aziraphale schooled their feelings accordingly. _Yes_ , She replied simply. _They do not create - you, my children, will help me in that, as you have done for everything in this Universe. But the Humans will have my love, as do all of you. They are given this task, as Eden, the Earth, will be their domain. So it is here that I come to what is most important._ The image of the humans disappeared, drawing all attention back to Her. _They will be tested. But they will also be vulnerable in ways the Host is not. What I demand of all of you is that you love them above all else. That you love them even above Me._

There was a rising wave of _something_ Aziraphale could not identify, the seeds of which they had detected in the Light-bringer's tone. No angel interrupted Her, not even Lucifer, but from the Host Aziraphale could feel a wall of that unrecognisable sensation building to meet Her words. Their wings shifted against them, threatening to mantle protectively. Aziraphale forced them to still, as the Almighty did not react. _As they are tested the humans will require guidance. They will require protection. Some of you will be called upon to shoulder these tasks, and I trust you will perform them well._

Normally Aziraphale watched Her expressions; they would not want to miss any subtle change in Her countenance. But as She spoke they watched the Light-bringer, and their feelings of discomfort only grew.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. To those of you who gave the first part of this a chance, thank you for reading! And for those of you who left a 'kudo', well - you're so kind! Thank you, too! To anybody else who decides to give this a read, you're very much appreciated. <3
> 
> 2\. The last week+ has been a toughie in my part of the world, and it's not all COVID-related. My attention span and motivation kind of went to pot as a result, so despite trawling through this again and again I'm still not happy with it. But I'm writing for myself, so I figure there comes a point that I have to just let it go and move on to the next bit. Maybe I'll get inspired later and clean this up some more, but for now it is what it is.
> 
> 3\. There's a little more action (if you can call it that) in this chapter, but we are still establishing characters and background so I apologize that it will probably drag on a bit. I played around a lot with formatting of the chapter and settled on a bit of back-and-forth between recent past and the present. I've tried to make it as easy to follow as I can but I do apologize again if the way I've presented it is unnecessarily convoluted.
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and well, and can derive even a little enjoyment from this if you give it a read. <3

Moulded against the white marble staircase leading to Her throne room Aziraphale stared at the celestial sphere arcing above them. It remained impenetrably dark, dotted with the stars and celestial bodies throwing or reflecting light over Heaven. They wondered vaguely when someone from Celestial Arrangement would readjust its settings. They felt strangely disconnected from their self, the others' phantom feelings still too strong; the psychic imprint which was the only remainder of _their_ final screams a curious union of relentless pressure against and gaping void in Aziraphale's consciousness. They were dimly aware of their four aspects cycling repeatedly as they tried unconsciously, in vain, to process and rationalize all that had transpired. The stairs were stained silvery-gold, a growing pool that trickled in thin rivulets from stair to stair. It was seeping from them, Aziraphale knew. Its points of origin were the awful tears in their being - cruelly ripped through the delicate quicksilver fabric of one wing to the fundament of their form beneath it. The wounds provided a screaming, burning source of pain (a novel sensation on which they may have meditated and reflected, were circumstances different) but were nearly overshadowed by the loss of millions. Those screams and whirlwinds of feeling Aziraphale had never felt and could not begin to name, had been nearly simultaneous as the others had been swallowed by flame and abruptly cut off from the Host. Where they had gone Aziraphale could not begin to imagine.

They dropped the sword. The flame guttered out when it clattered and stilled on the stair. Aziraphale ignored it as they began to descend, their unsteady progress hindered at first by their aversion to touching, in any way, the black scorch mark two stairs below them.

\--------------------------------

The audience with the Almighty had marked a turning point. Much later, when the phrase became a common idiom, Aziraphale would say Heaven had 'gone down hill from there'. Not unusual for any period leading up to the roll-out of a substantial Creation, She turned most of Her attention to the committees diligently working on preparations for Earth and Eden. Animal Design was under great pressure; evidently there would be millions of animals, of all shapes and sizes. Individual departments were redirected to focus entirely on Earth: angels in Atmospheric Phenomena and Celestial Arrangement abandoned the far-flung reaches of the universe and pored over Her favoured little blue and green planet. Her preoccupation meant She did not call upon the Cherubim often so Aziraphale had taken to busying their self with meditative visits to the grove, but also found their attention drawn more frequently to the forum and its dialogues. 

That was the first noticeable change. Committees and departments involved in the Earth project were free to share their work with the Host, so many accepted the invitation of the Archangels to speak and enlighten the others. Though not as colourful or irreverently charming as the Light-bringer's debates, the novel subjects of which they spoke more than made up for lack of dramatics. It soon became habit for Aziraphale to watch from the stoa, absorbing new information and privately piecing together those small glimpses of what Earth would be like. However, the more time Aziraphale spent near the forum the more obvious it became that Lucifer's disgruntlement at Her proclamation had not abated, but had begun to seep into the Host.

In a way it had begun, rather innocuously, with Vasiariah, a Dominion in Celestial Arrangement.

_Vasiariah was surrounded by a rapt audience as xe offered an enlightening if slightly tedious explanation of the finer points of hir department's work. There was quite a lot of damage that could be done if one single celestial body or object was out of alignment; were the Earth to be destroyed by its own moon it would more than reflect poorly on hir department. Embarrassingly, Vasiariah had told the assembly of angels, the moon constructed for the Earth had recently required realignment, as its pull had caused the planet to warp into an ovoidal shape not unlike a few cheeky stars the Architects had sneaked into several galaxies. The Almighty had disapproved of the shape and had ordered a review._

_"It is so fascinating." Kerubiel appeared without warning at Aziraphale's side, Batariel close behind, startling them to the point that several extra eyes opened along the spokes of their ophanim and were hurriedly closed again. "Oh Aziraphale, I do apologise," Kerubiel said quickly, but xyr aura betrayed gentle amusement. Batariel offered a solemn tremor of greeting as Aziraphale collected their self._

_"Fascinating?" thon echoed. "We know all of this, Kerubiel." Batariel gestured with a tendril toward Vasiariah and the gathered masses. "Not in relation to Earth, to this project," Kerubiel maintained._

_Batariel shifted thons wings irritably. "Orbital pathways and gravity follow the same basic principles throughout the universe. Calculations may differ but not enough to warrant an audience in the forum." Aziraphale shifted their gaze from the other Cherubim and back to Vasiariah, who had moved on to discuss alignment of the planets nearest the Earth. It was true, of course; following their Creation the Cherubim had been taught such principles by the Light-bringer. But Aziraphale had never truly understood the complexities of celestial arrangement, and tended to agree with Kerubiel. They were eager to learn, and the eagerness was augmented by the subject as it pertained to Earth and Eden. "Are you not as enthusiastic about Her final creation, Batariel?" they asked._

_The colours of Batariel's aura cycled through a spectrum as thon considered their response, thons ophanim uncharacteristically betraying agitation. "Of course," thon said at length. "However I have...concerns."_

_Kerubiel nudged thon playfully. "You are beginning to sound like the Light-bringer."_

_"And if I am?" The sharpness of Batariel's words was unexpected. Aziraphale saw their surprise reflected in Kerubiel's reaction. The Light-bringer was free about their concerns regarding the Earth project, but the concerns as far as Aziraphale was aware were mostly details the Almighty had not yet shared but likely would as the implementation of the project drew nearer. Lucifer had never been a being of endless patience, and co's eagerness to know each and every detail before She was ready to share was not unusual._

It had been such a small occurrence, but it had been enough to plant a seed of discomfort. Batariel was mild in thons words and actions; a listener invaluable in their advice to Her because Batariel parsed every option so carefully before presenting thons opinions. Batariel's was not a character suited to the wit and often high emotion of the forum, but for private counsel and exchange of ideas. Thons uncharacteristically sharp, reflexive response was troubling.

From then on Aziraphale had taken to observing the other angels in the forum more than listening to the speakers, and as they observed they felt moods gradually shift. On occasions the Light-bringer and the other Archangels engaged in spirited debate, laughter was tenser, less carefree. Gabriel's refutations of Lucifer's comments regarding the humans and the importance they had been assigned edged into sharp, sincere disapproval, which only served to urge the Light-bringer on. Members of lower ranks began to visibly side with the Light-bringer. Their discomfort over the humans being given a godly role - naming all new living things on Earth - in addition to being asked to love them over the Almighty made them nervous. It made them feel second-best - second-loved - in Her eyes.

The prospect of change was daunting; Aziraphale was more than willing to admit it. What was even more daunting was the inability of the dissenters to see beyond their uncertainty and to trust in Her Plan.

\--------------------------------

Aziraphale was of two minds. Part of them felt the need to survey the damage to Heaven; as they slowly descended from the staircase, winging unsteadily toward the forum, identical black scorch marks were visible everywhere. Angels left behind burned brightly in their fully-revealed forms, and turned eyes toward Aziraphale when they registered their movement. Some dropped their weapons as Aziraphale had; others maintained a compulsive grip on them. The part of Aziraphale that needed to see Heaven's wounds and scars for itself, however, was pressed into submission by the weight of loss. They did not understand it, but the sensation made their movements sluggish and reluctant; their thoughts hesitant and scattered. It was all they could do to control their descent to the forum, threading two columns of the stoa clumsily and finally coming to a stop. They tried to readjust their lower pair of wings and was rewarded with a renewed punishing surge of agony. Their wounded lower wing drooped low and dragged on the floor, exposing the typically covered upper quadrant of their form. Normally this would be an unacceptable state of nakedness, but the upheaval of this...conflict had pushed aside all discomfort at their outward presentation.

Angels had begun to congregate in the forum and others were slowly joining them from all directions. There was a great deal of damage to Heaven and to the Host; Aziraphale could see some seeping ichor, ignored in favour of pressing close to companions. The forum's smooth polished floor was cracked and broken; columns along the stoa had broken and threatened to topple, if they had not already done so. And everywhere, to Aziraphale's horror, were more of the terrible black marks. Assistants of Raphael hastened hither and yon, single-minded attempts to shepherd the injured to the healing annex frequently stonewalled by angels' refusal to leave their comforting huddles. Other angels appeared mercifully unharmed, but their auras were dull and stricken; they too sought companionship as desperately as the wounded.

A sudden, pained roar drew the attention of Aziraphale and several others; it took only a moment to espy Iophiel as the other Cherub careered into view, leonine aspect fully on display. Iophiel subsided only when Ophaniel surged from the masses and pressed close, their twin beleaguered auras melding. Aziraphale moved painfully in their direction, driven by the sudden desire for their company. What of Kerubiel? Had xe escaped the...what could it be called? Exctinction? Removal? It was unclear what had actually become of the Light-bringer and co's admirers, but Aziraphale tried to remind their self that Kerubiel had been as concerned as they over Lucifer's resistance to Her Plan. 

"Aziraphale." Raphael. The Archangel had intercepted their progress and now extended a tendril to nudge aside Aziraphale's damaged wing. It sent another bolt of agony singing through their form, but Aziraphale tried not to pull away. They had not seen the wound below the wing and dreaded knowing what damage waited. What caused this?"

Aziraphale blinked, their processing of hir question syrupy and slow. "Spear," they managed at last; then, unnecessarily, "I defended the throne room." The words escaped with minds of their own. Raphael fixed them with a piercing unreadable look but Aziraphale was too distracted to give it much notice. "What happened to them?" they asked. 

No response. Raphael did something incredibly painful to Aziraphale's wing. It took a long moment before they realized the sudden horrible shrieking sound of pain had escaped them. Their ophanim blazed defensively. "Stop!" they roared.

"I apologize, Aziraphale, but this must be seen to. Come." The Archangel pressed close; the next thing Aziraphale knew the healers' annex appeared around them. It was quiet and mercifully free of damage; even more mercifully, it was also free of the terrible scorch marks marring Heaven as far as one's gaze could see. Several spaces were already occupied by wounded angels of varying ranks, and Aziraphale was pressed into one; they lashed out reflexively when Raphael took hold of their damaged wing again and firmly pulled it aside. "Oh -"

"Peace." Raphael pressed their will into Aziraphale; they subsided involuntarily. A different sort of heaviness spread encompassed their self as Raphael worked, and dimly they realized they had never before had cause to be healed. On the heels of that realization came another: no angel had ever had cause to be healed of wounds such as these. Before they could put these thoughts to Raphael, the Archangel wove a heavy, calming spell and Aziraphale was submerged in emptiness where they knew no more. 

\--------------------------------

Witnessing the increasingly vocal misgivings of the Light-bringer and co's supporters pushed Kerubiel, Iophiel, and Ophaniel to confront Aziraphale in the grove. The trio privately voiced concerns which matched their own: the Almighty would remain patient only so long; they feared Her response to those who so freely questioned and disparaged Her Plan. Batariel and Yomiel had flatly dismissed these worries, still inflamed by Lucifer's grandstanding. Sachiel, Kerubiel told Aziraphale, agreed that the growing unrest was troubling but refused to bring 'trifling' matters before the Almighty without all Cherubim in agreement. However, in the grove, Aziraphale placed their support behind Kerubiel, Iophiel, and Ophaniel, and they devised an audience with the Almighty without Batariel, Yomiel, and Sachiel. By unanimous agreement Ophaniel, firm and unfailingly articulate, took the lead.

_"Lord, the Host is divided. We implore you to summon them to the Great Hall and soothe their very real worries."_

_Aziraphale felt strangely uneasy in Her presence. It was not a familiar sensation, when She exuded infectious calm and grace. It felt slightly underhanded, to meet with Her as a group of four rather than their complete group of seven. Compounding their discomfort, She seemed to stare into each Cherub in turn. Aziraphale remained steadfast under Her scrutiny, determined to silently communicate their concern for their fellow angels._

_Eventually She smiled at them, however faintly. "I understand your worries." Her voice was soothing, but She was wearing the expression Aziraphale recognized from the grove: an unreadable, secretive arrangement of features that hid far more than She pretended. "As I understand the others'. However, I have said what needed to be said. The Host will adapt."_

_Iophiel, it seemed, was not ready to to give up. Their aura was augmented by their agitation, and their leonine aspect burst forth along with myriad eyes along their ophanim. The fringes of their aura brushed against Aziraphale and the others; as usual the close contact of feeling from another provided temporary chaos as they sorted their own feelings from those of Iophiel._

_She held out a hand and beckoned Iophiel near. Without subsiding they obeyed, but folded their self at Her feet. She laid Her hand gently on their broad forehead. Slowly Iophiel shifted again, pulling back their agitation and tumultuous mien. Aziraphale did not know what She was saying but they, Kerubiel, and Ophaniel could feel Her Grace filling the throne room as She communed silently with Iophiel. At last they parted and Iophiel returned to Aziraphale's side. Her smile had softened further, intended for all of them. "Do you trust Me?"_

_"Of course." Heaven may have felt changed, but their faith in Her was absolute and would remain so. She rose from Her throne and clasped her hands before Her. "Then trust in the Plan. It is difficult," She acknowledged, "but try not to worry. Gabriel and Michael will keep things well in hand. Everything will fall into place."_

\--------------------------------

Stranger than being forced into unawareness was the return of it. Aziraphale did not quite remember how it felt to be created, but they suspected it was far more pleasant than being reunited with the pain they had hoped to escape in the first place. Their senses still felt strangely dull, awareness of others in the healing annex a muddled thrum beneath a film of pain. As their eyes readjusted to their suroundings the atmosphere of the annex was quiet and soothing; Aziraphale found a number of other angels remained, but to their dull senses none felt as though they were in pain. They hoped it was so, but a tendril of anxiety unwound at the notion that perhaps they had been wounded more severely than they had believed and was the only angel remaining to bear the reminder of the conflict. Aziraphale tested the motion of their torn wing and found it very stiff and reluctant to be moved; ichor no longer seeped from it, mercifully, but a shimmering gold, jagged line indicated where the injury had been. The tendril of anxiety swelled into a hard knot as they sudied the scar.

It was an ugly thing, that disturbed the patterned iridescent spectrum of the appendage. The wings were practical, not a source of pride or beauty, but they had been Created by Her and thus had been perfect. What did it mean that one appeared permanently marred? That thought led Aziraphale on to another - that all angels had been Created by Her and had been perfect. Yet millions of individuals had followed a leader who fostered doubt, who questioned Her. Their doubt had led to the Host taking up arms against one another, and now those millions had vanished without a trace.

_Everything will fall into place_ , she had told them. For all of Lucifer's posturing, all of their questions, She had not intervened. It had to be in Her design.

_Trust the Plan_. Aziraphale reined their simmering distress. Perhaps they had been wounded and a formerly perfect wing marred. It was, however small, a part of Her Plan. She had looked at each of them, her worried Cherubim, in turn, and reassured them. Their faith had saved them from suffering the fate of the others who had burned and screamed and vanished. Aziraphale had to keep faith that the conflict, their wounds, meant Her Plan was progressing as She intended. Summoning their courage, they gingerly investigated the still very painful wound that had been mostly hidden by their wing. Their many-eyed gaze found a similar imperfection: a puckered, untidy golden scar, preventing the escape of ichor. Aziraphale attempted to cover it with their wing; it was partially successful, if one ignored its twin on the wing itself. Another imperfection, but one they insisted to their self had reason to be there.

"Ah." Raphael appeared at their side. "Yes, the remnants of the wound. Unfortunately we are unpracticed in the treatment of these injuries." Aziraphale noticed for the first time the Archangel's appearance was drawn, their aura grey. "You are not the only one. I did what I could, but..."

"I understand." Aziraphale shifted their lower wings out of habit; ensuring they were properly covered in the presence of a Seraph. "It is as She intends, I am certain."

Raphael appeared surprised, but their demeanor warmed with something akin to relief. "I am certain," ze echoed. "Your essence will minimize the scarring eventually. It will likely never recede entirely, but you will adapt."

That was hopeful. Aziraphale felt lighter than they had before, on the staircase. 

No.

Do not dwell on the staircase, on the tearing of the spear, on the scorch mark. Do not dwell on the loss of millions. Yet how could they not? Raphael had not answered their question earlier, Aziraphale recalled. Though the fate of the others was Planned they grieved their loss, grieved their contribution to the Host; their kindness, their love. They tried to stop the same question escaping now, but it refused to obey. "What happened to them?" It was fragile, the question, hanging between Aziraphale and Raphael like the delicate ice crystals Nuriel had shown their admirers in the forum. _"Snow," they had explained excitedly. Angels had gathered for a closer look; the tiny crystal had shimmered in the air, but the influx of heat from ethereal forms had caused it to vanish as quickly as it had appeared._

Raphael allowed the question to hang in the air, unanswered. 

\--------------------------------

Aziraphale trusted the Plan, trusted Her, even as the Light-bringer grew more brazen. Even with Gabriel and Michael attempting to keep the peace moods and tempers grew progressively worse. She did not intercede. If anything, She grew more preoccupied with preparations for Earth. Sometimes Aziraphale caught no more than a fleeting glimpse of Her; other times they could not recall the last time they had been in Her presence. They continued to watch dialogues from the stoa, watched more angels decide whether to trust as they did or to throw their support in with Lucifer.

The true turning point arrived when, upon departing the throne room following a meeting with the Almighty, the Cherubim were faced with Lucifer and a horde of co's supporters ascending the marble staircase. Kerubiel planted xyrself firmly between the approaching angels and the heavy alabaster doors. "Have you cause to be here, Archangel?"

The Light-bringer shimmered a little as co drew coself up confidently. "Move aside, Cherubim. I will speak to the Almighty." 

Silently, as if following some cue, Batariel and Yomiel crossed the very small divide and positioned their selves slightly behind Lucifer. Aziraphale refused to reveal their pain at the quiet defection. "You have not been asked here, Light-bringer. You will not attend Her." 

The full attention of the Light-bringer was no less disconcerting than it had ever been. However the throne room and its access were Her private domain; angels were not permitted to miracle their selves from place to place here. The knowledge that Lucifer would have to rely on their wings to push past the Cherubim provided Aziraphale daring they did not often possess. "What knowledge have you, Aziraphale, that others do not?" Lucifer taunted. "What has She told you that remains hidden from the Host?"

"I know what you know." Aziraphale did not know from where their temerity had come, but was not about to falter. "We merely keep faith with Her, and Her Plan."

"You would gladly prostrate yourself at the feet of those humans?" Lucifer demanded. A ripple of echoing discontent was voiced by co's supporters. "You would gladly take second place in Her eyes, below two dreamed-up powerless entities and their endless flood of progeny?"

Aziraphale mantled their upper wings. "I would gladly do as She asks of me, as it has always been. I beg of you, Lucifer - all of you - do not allow your temporary wounded pride to guide your actions."

Kerubiel moved to their side. "Reflect on Her plan," xe implored earnestly. "It is different, yes, and perhaps strange to think on it. But She has earned our faith."

"We were Created to have faith in Her," Lucifer snarled. "She did not earn it; She created it in us. We," co gestured to the throngs of angels behind, "choose those things that deserve our faith."

"You will not be permitted entry, Lucifer." Ophaniel's tone brooked no argument. "Follow the proper channels and perhaps She will allow you to attend Her."

There was a taut silence, and for a moment Aziraphale was convinced the Light-bringer would somehow force the issue. In the end, however, co made a wordless frustrated noise and retreated down the staircase. Co's supporters allowed the Light-bringer to pass and fell in without a backward look. Kerubiel, Sachiel, Ophaniel, and Iophiel pursued them a few steps to ensure none would double back and attempt to disturb Her; Aziraphale pushed one of the heavy doors ajar and chanced a look into the throne room, as surely She had overheard.

The throne room was empty; She had already taken Her leave.

_Everything will fall into place,_ they reminded their self.

\--------------------------------

Gabriel arrived in the healers' annex boisterous and seemingly unaffected. It was startlingly different to the subdued Archangel Aziraphale had spied in the forum, clustered with several of the remaining Seraphim in the aftermath of the others' disappearance. Now ze made a point to indivdually commune with each wounded angel in the annex and made approving noises at Raphael's details of treatments and positive outcomes. Still, Aziraphale's upper wings vibrated uneasily as they waited for their audience with hir.

_Aziraphale._ Gabriel extended one of their six wings; Aziraphale accepted and returned the gesture. Though they did not read any specific feeling from Gabriel they were fully cognizant ze was receiving the tumultuous brunt of theirs. The Archangel's outward mien turned thoughtful, and ze pulled back upon responding to Aziraphale's communication of feeling with a wave of reassurance that did not come close to matching that of the Almighty but which calmed the nervous energy in their form anyway. Gabriel reached out a tendril and nudged aside Aziraphale's injured wing to scan the twin scar below. Aziraphale bore the attention with as much grace as they could muster, but gratefully tucked their lower wings closer around their self when ze released them. _I am told you guarded the throne room well._

The staircase, the pleading, the slash of a spear; the terrible screams, the scorch mark. Aziraphale's ophanim whirred with their distress. _Thank you._

_What drove you there?_ The question caught Aziraphale off-guard. Their peaceful, submissive aspect, with its wide-set, pitch-dark eyes, took over automatically and peered at Gabriel uncomprehendingly. _The Almighty was not in the throne room,_ ze elucidated. _Why did you judge it necessary to leave your unit?_

Something trembled in the air between them, something that made Aziraphale choose their response carefully for reasons beyond their ability to explain. _There had been an...incident, before the conflict,_ they returned at last. _Lucifer -_ Gabriel visibly cringed at the Light-bringer's name, so Aziraphale hurried on. _A large group of angels attempted to push into the throne room for an audience with the Almighty._

_Yes, I am aware._

Aziraphale bobbed their bovine head in acknowledgement. _Yes, well, I suppose that was at the forefront of my mind. The Cherubim had been quite concerned at that moment -_

"Not all of them," Gabriel interjected aloud, a sharp reminder of Batariel and Yomiel, and Aziraphale winced, reminded of their loss with a pain mostly unrelated to their twin wounds. _No,_ they agreed quietly. _I suppose not. But the throne room is Hers. Those of us who had voiced our concerns to Her respect Her privacy. One does not enter unless She so wishes. My instinct was to protect it. I suppose I thought if one of...the others were to enter without Her permission it would sully the sacredness of it._

A tendril reached out again, pressing firmly against Aziraphale's wing, directly over the scar. The less than delicate touch caused a spike of pain, but they contained their reaction to nothing more than a brief tremor. _And who gave you this on the stair? By all accounts you were not wounded before you left your unit._ Gabriel seemed to mistake Aziraphale's hesitation for an attempt to conceal something, rather than what it was: the chance to gather their thoughts and respond in a way that did not make the conversation more painful than necessary. Hir wings moved as it to mantle, but Gabriel composed hirself almost immediately. _You protect one who has Fallen?_

Fallen. It was the first time Aziraphale had heard anything to describe what had happened to the millions that had been lost. They seized on that glimmer of knowledge desperately. _Gabriel, Where have they Fallen?_ they asked. _I have asked Raphael but ze would give no answer. What happened to the others? Was it the Almighty? And why?_

Gabriel's aura darkened. "You cannot question ineffability, Aziraphale. They did _wrong_." Ze broke the private communication to speak the words, drawing the attention of the other angels nearby. Hir tone was unyielding and stirred Aziraphale's simmering discomfort. "According to the Almighty they did wrong. And when you do wrong, you deserve to be punished. Do you not agree?"

It was not simply a question. It was an order. "Yes, of course," they said quickly. "I suppose I only grieve the loss from the Host. So many of us..."

"They are not 'of us' anymore, Aziraphale. Lucifer wanted a kingdom and co has been cast out to a place of their own creation."

_Not 'of us' anymore_. They had all been angels, wielding novel angelic weaponry. They had praised Her together; worked together, shared joy and calm and a purpose. Their thoughts threatened to spiral to places Aziraphale dared not let them; they wrenched their attentions back to Gabriel and back to their appreciation for what She had seen upon the Creation of the Light-bringer, what She had predestined for those who had _Fallen_. For all its ineffability the Plan was humbling. "I apologize if I seem difficult, Gabriel. I merely seek to-to reconcile all that has happened; change has come so swiftly. I grieve their failure of faith, while at the same time I fail to understand the complexity of how many angels have managed to fall from Her grace." The urge to avert their gaze, to appear smaller and less threatening, was unbecoming of a Cherub. It was not an impulse to which they were accustomed, not even in the presence of an Archangel. But some small part of Aziraphale recognized that more change was imminent. It had to be; Heaven could not possibly return to normal with half the host _Fallen_. 

Gabriel softened visibly, pressed closer to Aziraphale again to share warmth of feeling that felt, for a moment, the way all of Heaven had felt before She had gathered the Host and announced Her final Creation. It was difficult to tap into now, with tangible currents of confusion, exhaustion, and grief overtaking the Host. Aziraphale relaxed minutely; in this Gabriel could always be trusted. Ze was grieving as well, and would feel the weight of the losses more keenly than lower-ranking angels. Yet ze was steadfast and sure, a channel for and a reminder of all that was good in Heaven. "I understand, Aziraphale," Gabriel said benevolently. "We all strive to make sense of what has happened." There was a murmur, tremors of agreement from the nearby angels. "But all we need to know is that this is the will of the Almighty. She has cast out Lucifer and the others and kept those of us who are righteous and worthy. We must follow the path She has laid. We do not want to see any other angels punished."

"No, certainly not," Aziraphale agreed again. "Thank you for your understanding, Most Holy Archangel."

Gabriel seemed braced by the honorific, though they brushed it off. "Please, Aziraphale, that is unnecessary. Now, if you will excuse me, there are other matters to attend to. Heal well. Praise be to God."

"Praise be to God."

\--------------------------------

_Sachiel, who frequently communed with Ananiel, imparted word of Lucifer's attempt to push into the throne room. Immediately thereafter Michael had been told, and the news had triggered in xem a fiercely protective response. The weapons had mostly been xyr idea but Raguel, perhaps unsurprisingly, had offered immediate support as well as suggestions on how the weapons could be improved. That was the secondhand account provided by Sachiel, at least. In the quiet of the grove Sachiel imparted information to all Cherubim save Batariel and Yomiel; Gabriel had supposedly required little cajoling to accept the idea; Raphael and Ananiel were severely opposed but would not set themselves apart as yet another faction. Uriel had held out the longest, reflecting on the perceived need for such measures before assenting._

_With a sinking feeling Aziraphale realized the Archangels were divided. The two factions were unbalanced at six to one, but it appeared those with faith in Her Plan would no longer humour the Light-bringer or co's admirers. Suddenly Lucifer lacked co's favoured sparring partners; co's time in the forum and throughout Heaven began to turn to proselytizing. Whether co was aware of the novel, furtive countermeasures being devised by the other Seraphim was unclear. Surely the frequent absence of the Archangels in the forum would not go unnoticed, but the Light-bringer was content to continue inspiring loyalty among the Host. Iophiel occasionally tried to counteract co's influence; so too did Ophaniel, though less frequently. Aziraphale was warmed by their attempts, recalling their own quietly humiliating interactions with Lucifer and accepting that they would be less than effective were they to attempt it._

_So Michael and Gabriel assembled a specialty department and ordered weapons forged and willed into being - swords and spears of holy flame, bows nocked with arrows of lightning, staves gleaming gold and inscribed with powerful sigils. Angels were covertly armed; Aziraphale was given a flaming sword, told to_ do your duty _. The order was bewildering; their duty was to advise the Almighty, and that had never required weaponry. It required thought and reflection; it required cooperation and wisdom. But the Archangels were convinced the weapons would prove necessary. There had never been any reason for them to exist, never any reason to wield them, but in Heaven's strange new reality angels went about their business side-by-side with supporters of the Light-bringer, and bore weapons banished to pocket dimensions where they would remain unseen until that unfathomable moment they were to be used._

_The weapons, angels were told individually - no large gatherings to supply the weaponry; there was no need to provoke the others - had been carefully but hurriedly designed (by unpracticed creators) to harm The Enemy, but not angels. When Michael had left them alone Aziraphale had immediately banished their sword out of sight and went away deep in thought. They were all angels. Who was The Enemy, the shadow supposedly threatening violence? Kerubiel and the other Cherubim had no more insight than Aziraphale; as a group they sought counsel from the Almighty, but She was not to be found._

_When the conflict arrived, who had brandished the first sword, who struck the first blow was forgotten as soon as it began. They were all angels utterly unpracticed in warfare, organized in echelons and phalanxes, chaotic and mostly confused, swiping and slashing and shooting because they had been told to do so._

The celestial sphere, pastels and streaks of indigo in which stars and planets and moons hung like baubles, plunged into darkness. Light provided by the celestial bodies and from the forms of angels themselves, meant Heaven itself was not cast into shadow, but the abrupt changed was unusual. In the grove Aziraphale supposed someone in Celestial Arrangement had mucked up, and waited for the sphere to correct itself. 

It did not happen. Instead a frisson of anxiety swelled in their awareness. It was not their own - at least, not at first. The first inkling of feeling swelled into a wave, a collective outpouring of uncertainty and confusion. Aziraphale spread their upper wings and launched upward through the canopy of trees. Below and in the distant reaches of Heaven they spied the telltale shimmers and the glorious blaze of heavenly forms - but among them, also, the disturbing paths of burning projectiles, of clumsily-swung swords, and awkward jabs of spears. An unfamiliar emotion seized them then, as sudden as if they had been gripped and held fast, and a flurry of half-formed thoughts sprung to mind - they did not want this. None of this should be happening. Did the others have weapons? Where had they come from? Why was this happening now?

A narrow thread of lightning bolted past them, narrowly missing a wing. Aziraphale banked sharply to avoid a potential second volley, simultaneously casting their senses out in search of their assailant. There. In the shadows of the grove, a Dominion they did not recognize. They bore a bow and readied another arrow. Clumsily Aziraphale summoned their sword; in their grip it blazed to life and they contorted their form into a downward dive, arrowing straight at the other to catch them off guard. The Dominion faded back into the trees, but Aziraphale struck out, ophanim first - a slash that cleared a path to the Dominion and provided an open target for a draw cut which cleaved the bow in twain. "Why are you doing this?" they roared. 

The Dominion made a conciliatory gesture - this close Aziraphale could sense their reluctance to fight, and feelings that were so similar to theirs. "The Light-bringer," the Dominion gasped. "We have been promised the Almighty will listen."

Aziraphale allowed their leonine aspect to fully take over, emitted a frustrated snarl. "This is not the way forward," they snapped. "Remove yourself from my sight; do not take up another weapon." Without waiting for a response or for the Dominion's compliance, Aziraphale cast out for the presence of any other Cherubim and, upon sensing Kerubiel in the forum, focused on xyr location and willed their self to xyr side.

The forum was in a state of bedlam. Kerubiel barely reacted to Aziraphale's presence, focused as xe was on Michael's instructions. "Go," the Archangel barked. With a parting glance Kerubiel shouted an order at a small group of angels and they plunged into the fray. "Where have you been?" Michael demanded of them. Aziraphale spun away from the wayward thrust of another sword. 

"The grove - I came as soon as -"

"Your unit is there!" Michael wheeled as xe spoke, delivering a slash to another angel before gesturing toward a group of angels of similar number to the one Kerubiel led. "The Seraphim will deal with Lucifer; your only task is to subdue co's followers."

There was a distinct lack of organization to many of the small units ostensibly commanded by higher-ranking angels. However Aziraphale also caught sight of more efficiently organized rows of angels moving as one through the indistinguishable blurs of armed celestial beings. Perhaps there were some angels more suited to War. Something in their design, perhaps, that lent itself to strategy and leadership of this kind. They recognized at once that they were not one of them. "How did the Light-bringer and the others obtain weapons?" they asked numbly, but Michael had already moved on, a fluid grace to xyr movements. Xyr sword plunged into the core of one angel, then another, and Aziraphale had to turn away and join their new unit.

The angels they were meant to command were mostly Principalities, Powers, and titleless angels. "Stay together." Aziraphale injected more confidence into their tone than they felt. They wished fervently for the inexplicable certainty they had felt refusing the Light-bringer entrance to the throne room, but it eluded them. 

One of the Principalities, a record-keeper - Imamiah, they thought - shakily nocked a glimmering arrow. "What do we do, Aziraphale?"

"Protect one another. The Archangels will settle things with the Light-bringer. The others are misguided and no more certain than any of us." They hoped that was true. "If you are attacked, seek to disarm only." They forced their attention away from the damage being wrought to the forum, formerly the center for peaceful socialization, and to the arrangement of angels in other units. As quickly as possible they organized their charges into a small knot with bows wielded from the center, spears on the outer edge, and swords filling in the gaps. Circling rather than organizing in a row, they hoped, would allow them to deter attacks from all angles.

It worked well for a time. Some angels still loyal to Her shot unreadable sidelong glances at their formation, but their only goal in mind was to minimize damage to the Host and stay safe. And then by chance Aziraphale spied Batariel through the hordes. Deflecting blows and encouraging their unit, they shifted to their avian aspect and kept thon in sight until Batariel reached the stoa, where thon disappeared.

Their keen golden eyes narrowed. They called a warning to their unit and retreated further into the formation, replaced at once by a Power. Concentrating on one presence was difficult in the tumult around them, but eventually Aziraphale found Batariel. Thon appeared to be making their way to the throne room. "Hold your position!" Aziraphale called to the others. "I will return."

One of the angels whose name they did not know glanced at them fearfully. "Where are you going?" 

"I will explain when this is over; I must make haste, but I promise i will be back." Maintaining their focus on Batariel's aura Aziraphale appeared at the base of the winding staircase. Batariel had a minute head start, but Aziraphale launched with all four wings, knowing the extra power would speed them on their ascent. The decision paid off; Batariel had clearly not anticipated being followed, and was easily overtaken. Thon recoiled in surprise when Aziraphale executed a rolling descent which ended several stairs above thons position. They calmly wrapped their lower wings in their typical arrangement and brandished their sword defensively. 

Batariel recovered quickly and firmed the grip on thons long spear, levelling it threateningly. "This is not necessary," Aziraphale assured thon. Surely Batariel would see the way back to the Right of things. Here in this place, where Cherubim performed their most essential duty, thon could be reasoned with.

"Move aside, Aziraphale. I do not wish to harm you but I will if I must."

Confident that Right was on their side yet undeniably wary, Aziraphale wove back and forth to avoid being caught off-guard should Batariel attack and did not relinquish their grip on the sword. They did, however, relax its position enough to assure Batariel they were more interested in negotiation than fighting. "What are you planning to do here?"

Batariel pushed forward, stopped only when Aziraphale drew their flaming sword in an upward diagnonal cut that narrowly missed thons leonine visage. The other Cherub growled lowly at the warning manoeuvre and lunged with an attack Aziraphale dodged easily, only to quickly reverse thons spear twice - the first jarring the sword and the second scoring a glancing blow of the lightning-tipped head off the trailing edge of one of Aziraphale's wings. Batariel appeared as surprised as they that the attack had been even moderately successful. Caught off guard, but sensing their wing was undamaged, Aziraphale did not falter in their attention. "What were you planning to do when you had reached the throne room?" they demanded again.

"She trusts me as She trusts you and the others."

"She did," Aziraphale retorted. "We have had our concerns, Batariel, of which She is aware. I cannot speak to what trust She has remaining in you." Batariel feinted right; Aziraphale sensed the movement was a ruse and did not follow it, so thons renewed attempt to pass was ineffective and halted by no more than the brandishing of their sword. "She will allow me to attend Her," thon insisted.

"She is not there." Whether it was the truth, Aziraphale did not know. They could not sense Her in the throne room but She was able to cloak Herself from the Host if she deemed it necessary. "You are not to enter if She is not present."

"Does She permit any angel entry now?" Batariel asked. "She has been quite unwilling to listen to the Host, from what we are told."

Aziraphale closed several of the eyes along their ophanim and willed their frustration under control. "She is not unwilling to listen. She has revealed what is necessary about Her Plan, Batariel. You trusted in Her as much as I, until Lucifer poisoned your thinking."

"You are blind, Aziraphale."

"What does Lucifer hope to accomplish with this disobedience, this violence?" Aziraphale demanded. "The end of Her Plan for Eden? No humans? They are the point of it all, Batariel."

Batariel advanced a little; Aziraphale backtracked to maintain the distance between their self and the end of the other's spear. "The Host has its rightful place," thon declared. "Our rightful place, at the side of the Almighty. The humans will be weak; they will be powerless. They will not even be of Heaven! Why should they usurp our place?" Batariel made a feint with the spear; Aziraphale readily knocked it aside with the flat of their blade. 

"Do you not understand, Batariel, that Lucifer leads you astray?" Aziraphale cried. "The Light-bringer has changed. Co values pride in coself more than faith in and devotion to God. The Plan and the humans are but an excuse! To contravene the will of the Almighty is a terrible wrong - and all of you are complicit!"

"You have always been rather slow." Batariel moved with unexpected speed, pushing up against Aziraphale's grip on the sword before they had a chance to react and shifting forcefully ahead. Aziraphale tried to move with the contact, rolling their form in the air to free their self from Batariel's pressing attack. Successful, they retreated a little higher on the staircase. "It is not too late," thon continued. "See reason."

"It is not too late for you, Batariel." Aziraphale tried again to negotiate even as thon pressed forward again, sensing their reluctance to properly use the sword. If they could convince Batariel to break off from the Light-bringer thon would help bring Yomiel back into the fold. The Cherubim would be of one mind again, present a united front to dissuade those of lower ranks. "She alluded once, that to behave counter to Creation - as long as the behaviour is not willful disobedience - would be forgiven. Accepted, even. I will do whatever I can to help you." They blocked an artless overhead swing of Batariel's spear with the flat of their blade. Batariel withdrew at once. "Please do not -"

There was a new sensation then. Not an emotion, but something new in their form. More than discomfort. In the split second it took to register Aziraphale noted that it had been preceded by a firm pressure against one of their lower wings - _through_ the wing. The sensation surged, and they cried out wordlessly. Batariel was pressed close again and then was not - and as thon moved away, the sensation changed, became caustic and nearly unbearable. Aziraphale felt something _tear_ , and come loose. 

The overhead swing had been a ruse. They had been foolish not to see it, to underestimate Batariel's ruthlessness. Their spear had been pulled back only to thrust through Aziraphale's unprotected lower wing and into their form beneath it. A sharp jerk of the weapon and it ripped free; based on the changing sensation, causing more damage on its retreat than in the initial thrust.

Aziraphale's form grew unsteady in response to the new sensation concentrated in the region of their lower wing. It was difficult to maintain their orientation. They stared uncomprehendingly at Batariel, whose leonine aspect melted away to reveal thons bovine visage. Thon dropped the spear and darted forward again, hovering frantically. Thon reached out with a questing tendril; at the contact Aziraphale sensed thons emotions - as chaotic and shocked as their own. "I did not -" thon stammered. "Aziraphale - oh." Batariel flitted away, their aura flickering alarming hues of grey. "I feel strange."

The ever-present thrum of the Host at the back of their senses swelled into a roar. Aziraphale was uncertain whether it was related to the damage inflicted on their form, but all at once they were aware of amplified rage, of uncertainty, of things yet unnamed. It was the Host, and it built in intensity and pressure until it snapped with a piercing, discordant shriek. To their horror, Batariel met their gaze one last time before the lighting of the spear at thons side ignited into flame, magnesium-bright, and engulfed them completely.

The shriek cut off abruptly. When the flames dispersed, Batariel had gone.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the War Heaven has been readjusting. Aziraphale is eager for their reality to return to 'normal', but nothing is ever quite so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're following this I apologise for the long wait. For having so much time on my hands it's been very difficult the last few weeks to break through quite a sizable block. We're nearing the start of canon events, however, so if you're getting antsy over lack of Crawley/Crowley it will only be one or two more chapters without him. :) 
> 
> Thank you again to anyone who has given this a read so far, and of course to anyone who has left a kudo and/or a comment! x

_The garden was hardly recognisable as the garden anymore. Trampled and aflame, splattered with the deliberately-spilled silver-gold essence of angels, it was difficult to reconcile this wasteland with the peaceful meditation, communion, and promenades which had taken place here. Xyr attention was drawn repeatedly, a potentially fatal distraction xe knew, to the terrible wrong that was the gleaming ichor. It ran deep within them all, precious and sacred. For it to be spilled by weapons charged with malicious intent seemed blasphemous. Xe felt set apart from the others in that moment, unable to tell among the chaos of teeming angels who was on which side. Nearly all ranks were accounted for here, all familiar in their own way; all seeking to shed the precious ichor of the others; all wielding weapons -_ only the Righteous were meant to have weapons; how had the Light-bringer armed co's disciples? _\- striking fervently, desperately. Xe thrust the bow forward and caught the blade of a flaming sword. Xe locked gazes with the other for an interminable moment, cries and shouts and chaos around them, as the other desperately tugged the sword free of xyr bow. The blade slashed wildly, catching xyr across a tendril and breaking xyr grip on the bow. It fell to the ground; xe lunged, fumbled for it, realized belatedly that this was a critical mistake. Then from above a spear thrust home, rooted itself deep in the core of the other. Xe froze, watched the wound gout ichor, watched the other fall back, shocked. Another angel - Dominion - freed the spear, didn't spare xem a glance as they moved on. Molten light erupted from below, swallowing -_

_It felt good to have Zerachiel at their side, to know thon wielded the spear with uncertainty equaling their own. It served to strengthen their resolve, gave them cause to be firm and resolute; to cast aside confusion, focus only on what was Right, and to protect Heaven. The grove was ablaze in the distance; they could not understand the need for the destruction of Heaven's beauty, but could not dwell on the pain of seeing it burn. Zerachiel pressed close, sharing the warmth of thons strength. Urged on by the Archangel Michael their unit moved as one, pressing The Enemy back._ Aziraphale summoned Zerachiel's file for cross-referencing. The remainder of Cassiel's account, on the edge of their consciousness, matched completely. They disengaged from the memories and set them aside in a labelled file of their own. The files pertaining to Michael's unit would be verified by Ananiel later, but Aziraphale expected the collection would be archived together in its entirety.

_"See it through!" a Throne -_ Aziraphale looked back over the memory to confirm it was one called Sandalphon _\- bellowed at hir side. Ze did not hesitate, but raised the sword and thrust downward; felt the rending of atoms and essence. The cry from the other merged with a sudden sharp, piercing shriek as blinding flame -_ Aziraphale hastily purged the memories into a new file and embossed it with the name of the angel from whom they had been collected. Jhudiel. A Throne often at amiable odds with Sandalphon, if they recalled correctly. Sandalphon was fiercer, uncompromising. Jhudiel wheedled and good-naturedly pestered them into providing multiple 'second chances' for angels under Sandalphon's wing. Even with hir memories removed to the archive Aziraphale could not erase the image of the vulnerable Principality cowering before hir. The sword had all but severed a wing. Principalities possessed only two. How would the angel - no, the Fallen; the _demon_ , they corrected - endure with only one?

Aziraphale shook off the thought. It did not matter, they reminded their self. Once the Fallen had been angels, but no longer. They were demons. They had done Wrong, and been banished to _Hell_ , a kingdom of Lucifer's unwitting design. Punished appropriately for rebelling against God. If the stories were true, their wings had burned away, removing any trace of the ethereal. Such a fate may have been a mercy for that former Principality.

"Have you many more to go?" Hanael appeared at their side, radiating approval at the neat stack of completed files atop Aziraphale's workspace. "Well done."

Aziraphale mentally reviewed the remaining compartmentalized accounts they had collected. "Only three. Ligariel, Zadkiel, and...Marut." 

"Wonderful. You will be pleased to know that those will be your last. The others are collecting from the last of the Host; soon we can truly put the War behind us." As the remaining Host had taken stock in the aftermath it had become glaringly apparent that no rank or department had been left unscathed. Dumbstruck with shock and grief, and with the Almighty curiously silent on the matter - it seemed what She had to say had been said in Her punishment of Lucifer's rebellious sect - the angels had been strangely adrift. It had been Gabriel's idea to 'debrief' each individual and archive their experiences of the War, touted by the Archangel as a means of sharing and purging their grief. The Host would not languish in their loss; the experience would be a lesson from which they would grow stronger. Providing an account for the archive was not mandatory but, Gabriel cautioned, it would potentially draw undue scrutiny to individuals who chose to withhold their experiences.  
  
With that in mind, none refused to share. The record-keepers, woefully short-staffed, sought temporary replacements to help achieve Gabriel's aim and Aziraphale, unable to bear visiting the forum or the recovering grove; oppressed by the strange weight of grief and desperate for distraction, had been one volunteer among many. Now they again saw flame swallowing angel after angel, heard the screams, felt the profound loss from the Host, and doubted Hanael's optimism very much. They maintained their untroubled mien, however, and nudged the conversation onto a different trajectory. "The record-keepers should be pleased with their success. When the Cherubim are called upon again I will ensure the Almighty knows of your diligence."

Hanael nudged them with a tendril; Aziraphale's automatic expectation was to be flooded with images and feeling from the War and studiously did not flinch, but could not completely shutter their relief when the fleeting touch yielded nothing more than a glancing impression of Hanael's esteem. "Yours as well," ne said kindly. "Perhaps when the project is over you will consider staying on with us? The Almighty remains ever so busy preparing Earth. This work suits you."

When their work with the record-keepers had begun Aziraphale might have been inclined to agree. Angels' early tuition under Ananiel ensured all members of the Host were familiar with the process of collecting records, and Aziraphale had been pleased the knowledge was reawakened quickly. Re-training had been efficient, permitting Ananiel to return to work in Animal Design. The Almighty's Plan for Earth had been severely disrupted by the War and She was keen to proceed. 

Collecting records had initially seemed to be rather soothing work. There was a script to follow that need only extend as far as making another comfortable as they willingly shared particular memories and emotion. It was repetitive and a predictable process, with a certain mindlessness to it that gave Aziraphale's churning thoughts a reprieve. Now, however..."Are you certain? I believe Ananiel would disagree."

"Nonsense." Hanael's aura, admirably as open and free with feeling as it had been before the War, radiated empathy. "You have come on tremendously since then. We were all grieving at the time; the missing pieces of the files were understandable."

_Were_ grieving. Anything else Hanael said faded out in the wake of the words. The Host had been grieving then, shortly after Fall, but no longer. Aziraphale recalled Gabriel's rebuke in the healing annex, in response to their confusion about the Fallen. The confusion lingered and compounded the grief caused by the loss of so many - it drifted to the forefront of their thoughts uninvited, plaguing them at times, but it seemed they were alone in that. The remainder of the Host had somehow managed to separate themselves from the War, to relegate it to distant memory. Aziraphale had long suspected it, and had become rather adept at masking their feelings even from the other Cherubim. It would not do to share those feelings with the wrong angel, to be mistaken for anything but utterly loyal. The threat of _Falling_ remained an undercurrent to the new reality in Heaven; no angel knew if or when it would happen again, or which infractions were worthy of it. 

Their feelings had already indirectly earned them a dressing down from Ananiel. However soothing the work may have been, Aziraphale had underestimated just how painful it would be. Thorough and insistent on complete records from beginning to end, Ananiel expected each record-keeper to uphold such standards. Aziraphale, who found comfort in detail, appreciated that trait, but the 'end' haunted them. 'The end' was the simultaneous shriek of the Fallen, their consumption by Holy Flame. After collecting several hundred accounts it was too much to bear, and they began ending sessions with other angels before they were confronted with that moment again. When the 'incomplete' files had been discovered Ananiel was less than pleased. "Perhaps that moment is painful for you, Aziraphale," the Archangel had said firmly, "but you are now responsible for aggravating the pain of one hundred thirty-three others who must now re-live that moment because of your error in judgement." 

Aziraphale revisited the one hundred thirty-three angels they had wronged, and the incomplete files were amended. The correction was known only to the select few involved in reviewing the original files; Ananiel promised to take it no further, with the caveat that should the matter repeat itself it marked a pattern of disobedient behaviour and would be referred to Raguel. It was not a mistake Aziraphale made again. "Again," they said wryly, "Ananiel would disagree."

"It has been forgotten," Hanael assured them. "Ananiel does not suffer fools. If xe was not satisfied with your work you would have been asked to remove yourself from the project. Would you like to stay on? I promise you, this is an extraordinary exception to our usual work. Quite often there is little more to do than rearrange files." 

It was tempting. The vaulted archive, its pristine arrangement of files in painstakingly organised sections such as _Celestial Architecture: Nebulae_ ; _Records of Discipline_ ; _Songs of Praise_ , and _Atmospheric Phenomena: Precipitation_ , was very peaceful in its way. One could become lost in the corridors for as long as desired. One could avoid interacting with anyone else. A shiver worked its way through Aziraphale's wings. So tempting, yes, but they could feel their wait was nearly at an end. When Earth and Eden were set into motion their horrible sense of drifting aimless would be over; they would be at the Almighty's side where they belonged. "I am grateful for your confidence in me," they said at last. "And I find myself far more amenable to the idea than I ever thought possible. But this is not where I belong. My role is to advise the Almighty, and above all else that is what I would like to do."

Hanael made a regretful sound. "I understand. But please remember the invitation remains - should you change your mind?" With a last nudge of support, Hanael moved away. "I will allow you to finish. I must check in with the others. If you need me..."

"I will find you. Thank you." Left alone, Aziraphale pressed aside any distracting feeling and focused on Zadkiel's memories. Three more records. Three more records and they were closer than ever to returning to their favoured place at Her side.

\---------------------------------

There were new files added to the section since last Aziraphale had visited. They were related primarily to composition of the core of the Earth and not within their usual range of interests, but they remained hungry for information about Earth and eagerly accessed the first. It was a reward, they told their self, for submitting the last of their records for approval. One file about Earth, and they would seek out Kerubiel and the others for reflection. A pleased tremor fluttered their upper wings as they settled among the records and began to absorb the images of solid and molten elements and the benefits of their use. 

Their perusal of the file was interrupted by the crackle of static and appearance of Gabriel before them. Aziraphale scrambled to return the file to its place and averted their gaze respectfully. "Ah, Gabriel. I do apologise, I -"

"No need to explain. I have been sent to fetch you."

"Fetch me...? By whom?"

The Archangel's intense gaze grew slightly withering. "Who do you think, Aziraphale? She has summoned the Cherubim to the throne room; you are to report at once."

"Goodness. Of course." They tried to summon the confidence and air of the soldier all angels had been forced to become, but fell short in their excitement. "Of course! Thank you, Gabriel."

The Archangel's form winked out of the archive; Aziraphale followed suit and within moments appeared at the base of the marble staircase. Their rapid transition from archive to the staircase invited a stern reminder from the gleaming twin scars on their wing and below it; a hot pain wreathed from the injuries and radiated throughout their form. Though not unusual since the wounds had been inflicted the pain still served to push aside their elated eagerness, replacing it with the reminder of what had transpired on that very staircase during the War. They paused to allow the sensation to subside to its usual background thrum before they unfurled their upper wings to climb to the throne room, moving a little more gingerly than before. Aziraphale focused resolutely on their summons and ignored the gradually welling grief. This was Good, they thought firmly. The wounds and pain were reminders of the War but also of the Plan. They were reminders that their faith had spared them, and that a role remained for them to fill in Her Plan.

An almost giddy excitement surged. It had been so long since She had summoned the Cherubim that it could only mean Her preparations were complete. That was cause for joy. 

Ophaniel, Iophiel, and Sachiel had already entered the throne room when Aziraphale arrived, but Kerubiel waited for them on the final step. Xe shimmered with delight, the warmth of their happiness enveloping Aziraphale as they drew nearer. "It must be ready," xe burst out. "I was tending the grove when Gabriel arrived; She would not have sent hir if it was not important."

They entered the throne room as one, and as the doors closed behind them Aziraphale immediately felt the warmth which had suffused the space. She was there. Their ophanim whirred ecstatically. It felt like seeing light after being so long in the darkness. Though incorporeal, Her pleasure was unmistakable. Her light expanded to greet Aziraphale and Kerubiel as they neared. _My children; come._

Aziraphale moved closer, basking in Her light. "Mother." Kerubiel echoed their greeting as Her five remaining Cherubim gathered close and partook in silent communion until She spoke again, caressing each of them lovingly. _I am so pleased with you all. The Host has suffered greatly, yet you persevere. You flourish._ In their shared connection Aziraphale felt ripples of assent from the others, and studiously did not allow their thoughts to stray. _I suspect you already know why I have summoned you. ___

____

____

"Preparations have been completed?" Iophiel asked softly, hopefully. Their shared connection to the Almighty rippled gently with Her amusement. _Yes. The humans will be placed in the garden very soon, and the Plan will be set into motion._

"What would You have us do?" Kerubiel entreated. 

_There will be much to coordinate as Earth is set into motion,_ She said. _My Archangels will assist, but they too will require support. I would have you work with the Seraphim and with Me to ensure all proceeds as it should._

"What more can we possibly do?" Sachiel wondered aloud. Aziraphale's avian aspect darted them a quelling stare that was ignored. "The humans will be on Earth; surely we will have little influence on them from Heaven."

The Almighty did not communicate any dissatisfaction with Sachiel, to Aziraphale's relief. Their growing tension melted away in the wake of the Almighty's patient reply. _You are correct, Sachiel. However, Earth will be implemented in stages, and will require you to coordinate with individual departments as needed. I desire a seamless transition to prepare Earth and Eden for the humans. Departments must be ready when they are called upon; I leave this task to all of you._

At once, Aziraphale received Her instructions through the connection - the six stages in which the Plan would be implemented and the relevant departments to whom each responsibility would fall. Excitement swelled at the receipt of Her instructions - the foundation for the project for which so much had been sacrificed. "When shall we begin?" Ophaniel asked.

Her happiness was palpable. _There is no time like the present._ She said, with an undercurrent of amusement Aziraphale and the others did not understand. They hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. Her fond amusement grew. _That will make sense very soon,_ She promised. _I would like you to begin now. All else is ready._

With heartfelt praises the Cherubim broke the connection and moved to gather together as they took their leave. _Aziraphale,_ She interrupted as Aziraphale joined the others, _I would ask you to remain._ Kerubiel and Ophaniel paused uncertainly, but She nudged them along. _Do not worry; I will speak to Aziraphale alone, but they will join you presently._ Obediently they went, and the doors closed soundlessly behind them. Aziraphale watched them close, and when they turned their attention back to the Almighty She had adopted Her human appearance and perched on the edge of Her throne. _Come._

They moved with some trepidation back to Her side, and settled at Her feet. They did not quite understand the feeling of quiet dread growing within them; She had given no sign that She was displeased, and they had always treasured their time spent alone with Her. But there was something unsettled in their self as they gazed up at Her. "Lord?"

She watched them carefully, seeing **into** them, before speaking. _You are troubled._

Oh goodness. She knew; it was foolish to ever believe that She would not know what lurked beneath the surface the moment She turned attention to them. It was pointless to dissimulate. "Oh, I - only - not always, Lord."

_Often enough,_ She said kindly. _You are troubled by thoughts of the Fallen?_

Their bovine aspect pressed forward and bowed its head ashamedly. "I - we are not to speak of it. It is forgotten." 

_It is not forgotten, Aziraphale. Not spoken of, perhaps, but not forgotten. It is a lesson._

The words were Hers, but Aziraphale heard them in Gabriel's booming voice. They thought of the millions of records added to the archive and knew the words to be true. The War and the Fallen were not forgotten. But there was more to their feelings than memory or lack thereof. Memory comprised so much more than knowledge and fact. Memory was knowing what had been and therefore knowing what was missing; memory was the myriad events and experiences of the War and fear of their far-reaching consequences. Aziraphale did not know how to articulate that what troubled them was not the memory of what had occurred, but the uncertainty of what was to come. Their existence had remained all but unchanged since their creation yet now, despite being exactly where for so long they had desired to be, they felt no less secure in what would happen next. It overshadowed even their elation at the imminent implementation of the Plan.

She reached for them and cradled their broad head in Her hands. _You forget how well I know you, Aziraphale._

It said everything and nothing. "Do you?" The hope in the question was pathetic, they knew. A Cherub was sure and steadfast - they had been so, once. Now they felt weight similar to the grief that had swamped them in the aftermath of the War. They felt frayed, tattered. They dared not ask Her to explain what She knew. Questions were dangerous. Questions had seen the Fall of so many.

_I do. And that is precisely why I asked you to remain. I have a task for you._

Curiosity piqued, they raised their gaze to Her. "Of course, Lord; I am your servant."

They felt Her love for them ripple against their nebulous edges. _Do you remember what I told the Host; what I asked from all of you for the humans?_

"Of course."

She released them and sat back. _And what was that?_

Aziraphale recalled Her words as if She had only just spoken them. They plucked them from memory without jostling the recollections of the early signs of Lucifer's rebellion. "You asked that the Host love the humans above all else. Including You."

She caressed one of the curled horns on their passive aspect, pleased. _Aziraphale, what I ask of you will require your faith._ That task was a simple one; amusement overtook their unease for a brief moment. It was ridiculous to think they would ever have less than utter faith in Her. _This may seem beneath the role of a Cherub, but I ask you to guard Eden, and to watch over the humans._

Processing the request was...difficult. Aziraphale understood, and then did not. Her words swirled over and over, not quite penetrating. To guard Eden? Watch over the humans? But...on Earth? She desired them to leave Her side - to leave Heaven? "I...for ever?"

Her manifested expression did not change; it remained benevolent but otherwise was utterly unreadable. _The humans will be tested, but they will also be in harm's way,_ She explained. _They will be vulnerable to the threat posed by demons. They will require a protector, and a guide, to ensure their safety until it is no longer necessary._

It did not answer their question; they remained quiet as they reflected on Her words. "I would grieve not to be at Your side. To not be able to help in the implementation of Your Plan."

_You serve Me so very well, Aziraphale, and remain as dear to me as you have been since your Creation. You will be helping Me, but in a way others of the Host cannot. I am asking you to make a sacrifice, but I ask it of you only because I do know you so very well, and can think of none who could do this better._

__Lack of faith in Her Plan led to the Fall. Aziraphale would not fail; they would not Fall. And so they responded in the only acceptable way. "Yes. I will do it."_ _


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, not as long a wait this time! To be honest, it's because this chapter/scene is the first thing I wrote before I began piecing the rest of this story together! It was one of those wandering-thoughts things that I just started typing up as it occurred to me. I have tweaked and edited since then, but basically what you find in this chapter is what randomly occurred in my head several months ago! haha! 

Things will be quite different there. Vahrām will help you, but you will adapt. _She had smiled at them then._ And to prove the courage you fear you lack, I give you this. __

_She produced a sword; presented it to them. Aziraphale did not permit their gaze to rest on the flame-wreathed blade, staring past it to Her form but accepting the sword without hesitation. The burden of wielding it again was no easier to bear than the first time, but they privately hoped its purpose now was to simply maintain the appearance of being a powerful guardian. They studied Her benevolent expression for any sign or hint of what they should do, but when She merely gazed serenely back Aziraphale tucked the sword into a pocket dimension where it would remain out of sight. Some small part of them thought returning the sword to their possession must be part of Her rather ineffable humour. "Thank you, Lord," they said automatically. "I shall report to Vahrām at once. Is there anything else You would have me know before?"_

__Not yet, _She said simply._

The War had been a novel experience and jarring for all angels, but that did not mean some did not find individual purpose in it. Perhaps it was something in their design that made them hardier, or more adaptable to such tumult. Vahrām was a Power, and one such angel. Zie had been one of very few exempt from combat, but zir role had been critical: contributing to the forging, and leading distribution, of weaponry. Zie had always been a rather fierce individual of few (and rather abrupt) words, and had seemed disconcertingly more comfortable handling the new weaponry than the angels who had received them.

Zir makeshift armoury had been hurriedly erected in the shadow of the healing annex and laboratories. After the War Vahrām had declined to relocate, and the area had reshaped itself to provide a reasonably private surround of stoae. Aziraphale passed through them and into the labyrinthine armoury beyond, following the impression of Vahrām's aura they could sense within one of the larger workrooms. The deceptively featureless interior of the armoury was maintained as they passed into a space occupied by a shimmering column in the center and several entryways on the opposite wall. Through one of these emerged Vahrām, who paused upon registering Aziraphale's presence. Though most eyes were hidden on zir form Aziraphale was distinctly aware of being scrutinised. "Oh. Cherub Aziraphale."

"Vahrām." Their previous encounter with the armourer had been little more than a curt assessment on the suitability of each particular weapon for Aziraphale's form; a brusque precursor to being handed a sword and summarily dismissed. Even such thoughts, about events prior to the War, took them on a journey of unpleasant memory and suppressed grief and they refocused their thoughts in search of niceties, only to fall short. 

They needn't have bothered. Introductions apparently out of the way, Vahrām gestured impatiently. "What are you doing here?"

"Erm - to be quite honest I am not entirely certain. The Almighty sent me, and -"

Vahrām moved toward the shimmering column and indicated Aziraphale should do the same. "Interesting," zie murmured unaccountably. "Then my instructions are to equip you with a corporation for your assignment."

Despite their apprehension Aziraphale found their interest piqued. A corporation? The work undertaken within the armoury since the War was not a closely-guarded secret; angels freely shared the rumour that human-shaped _bodies_ were under development for angelic use. However, it had not occurred to Aziraphale that they would be carrying out their work in Eden in any sort of physical disguise. As they approached the column Vahrām made a complicated motion with a tendril. The light within the column wavered for a moment before a human-shaped body appeared. Aziraphale was drawn nearer by their curiosity, eager for a closer look. The fleeting glimpse of the humans She had provided in Her audience with the Host; the shape She adopted at times; even one of their four aspects did not provide such an opportunity to study the intricacies of the design. The corporation before them now was long and lean, with a pleasantly dark outer layer and similarly-hued sightless eyes. It was glorious evidence of Her final Creation.

"Well?" Vahrām demanded. Aziraphale startled and refocused their attention on the other, uncomprehending. "Do you want this one?"

Ah. Aziraphale studied the corporation a moment longer; it was a pleasing shape, but to choose it meant they would not be afforded the opportunity to admire the other designs. They gestured in the negative. "I should like to see what others are...erm, available. I expect I will know the one I want when I see it."

Vahrām made a sound laced with disdain. "Then by all means," zie said impatiently, "tell me when one catches your attention." Zie dismissed the first corporation and another appeared - much shorter and broader, with pale skin and close-set eyes. It did not have a particularly benevolent appearance; Aziraphale tried and failed to imagine approaching the humans in Eden wearing it. When they gave no sign they would choose it, Vahrām called upon the next. 

As the corporations passed one by one Aziraphale noted certain differences between them and the images She had provided of the humans. "They are not quite the same," they commented. Vahrām paused on a tall corporation with olive skin and narrow grey eyes. "What do you mean?" zie demanded. 

Aziraphale gestured to the corporation. "The humans in the Garden - the Man and the Woman - appeared to be differentiated by the presence or absence of certain outer stuctures there." They indicated the area between the legs. 

Vahrām made another sound, this time of comprehension. "Oh. Genitalia. They are for reproductive purposes," zie recited "so Her creations will fulfill Her wish to populate the Earth. Utter waste of resources to produce corporations with them. However," zie added, "size and shape of the corporation are optional. With certain effort outer and inner structures can be replicated or removed by the user. This one?" Aziraphale gestured for zir to move on. The seemingly never-ending rotation of corporations continued, and Aziraphale began to grow restless. If their form were to be inside the corporation for as long as their duty lasted they wanted one that...fit. Even Vahrām's growing impatience would not sway Aziraphale to a corporation that did not suit them.

And then, at last - "Stop." Their attention seized by a shock of white hair, Aziraphale moved nearer still. The corporation was pale-skinned, a middling height compared to the others they had been shown, the eyes a muddle of hues. In general the corporation was slightly stockier than some of the others, but Aziraphale was pleased by the subtle roundness of the face and body. "I should like this one," they decided.

"Very well." Aziraphale did not see what Vahrām did, but the corporation pushed forward from the column, forcing Aziraphale to move back. "Get in, then."

Aziraphale flitted around the corporation uncertainly. "How does one go about doing that?" They extended a tendril and brushed it against the corporation, amazed by the novel sensation of the somewhat elastic but unchanging outer covering. "It has a barrier."

"It is _derma_ ," Vahrām corrected them, offering no further explanation. Aziraphale merely tucked the new word away for future analysis. "Test subjects managed entry by trial and error. There have been positive reports for entering through the head and gradually extending control down, but also for entering through the lower back before radiating out to the extremities."

Aziraphale focused on the 'lower back' indicated and concentrated on compressing their essence. Wings tucked away in the aether made the process a little easier. On closer inspection the outer barrier - the derma - was covered in miniscule pores. That explained how entry was accomplished, but for a physical being it seemed strange that such openings in the body could possibly be useful. _Ineffable_ , Gabriel's reminder echoed in their mind. Awkwardly Aziraphale poured their self into the corporation and tucked into a cavity among rather squishy bits. Not hollow, then. 

_This is rather more complicated than it appears from outside_ , they reported. It was also fairly claustrophobic. Aziraphale distracted their self from the unsettling sensation of not having the option to expand as they were wont to do by brushing against each of the bits and pieces inside the corporation in turn. Each one seemed to have very specific purposes, which added to their wonder at the human design. 

The distraction did not last. Accustomed to spreading their upper wings to full span and expanding their essence to a comfortable radius, their compressed energy rebelled inside the small physical prison, sparking and squirming and desperately seeking an outlet. Aziraphale steadfastly ignored the impulse to eject from the corporation, even as their discomfort grew. It would not do to embarrass their self in front of the armourer. _The corporations have been designed to appear almost entirely human,_ Vahrām was saying. Again, it seemed as though zie were reading from a manual. _With exceptions already noted,_ zie added, _all organs are to spec, but can be manipulated by the user to suit. Acclimate where you are, then move up; find the brain. It controls everything the human bodies do, and you will control it to control the corporation. Try the vision center first._

Gradually, Aziraphale settled into the small space and began allowing their essence to diffuse through the corporation while trying to maintain awareness of all the interior bits. They encountered the delicate brain of the corporation and gingerly permeated it. How such a thing could be responsible for everything that kept a human body alive was baffling, and also rather humbling. Aziraphale explored the nooks and crannies of the strange organ and in each area tried to determine function without causing damage. 

The accidental activation of the corporation's vision was a surprise; they brushed against the fragile folds of the brain and the world erupted in bright light. Aziraphale could all at once see Vahrām through the corporation's eyes, the armourer a confounding swirl of light and colour and zir wings a much less defined shape than they were accustomed to seeing. The very limited range of vision would take some getting used to, Aziraphale decided, and it did little to improve the sensation of claustrophobia. They experimented with muscle movements and the delicate threadlike nerves, and the eyes soon opened and closed at will. Darkness; the bright expanse of the workroom and Vahrām's shimmering presence; darkness again. _Oh,_ they marvelled. _This is very strange._

There was a strong vibration then which the corporation's brain registered as pressure and pain. As far as Aziraphale could determine it did not originate from the corporation, and it was deeply unpleasant. The eyes began to leak fluid _What was that?_

_I apologise._ Vahrām. _Human bodies are not designed to hear the true voice of an angel. I said you must activate the hearing and speech systems. Humans do not communicate like this; you will need to speak to them using the mouth._

Aziraphale cast out tendrils, seeking the controls for the corporation's mouth. They managed to open and close it by working muscles that were closer to the back of the head than the front. _Is it working?_

_You are making no sound._

How extraordinarily frustrating. It took several more attempts, but at last Aziraphale - according to Vahrām, as they could still not hear - made a rather loud noise from the corporation. The aural controls were a little simpler, and Aziraphale heard their self speak in a human voice for the first time. "MmmAAAH."

It was a rather embarrassing, and not altogether auspicious, beginning to their relationship with human language. _Well,_ Vahrām said dryly, _it's a start. Now see about moving it around, or you will be little more than a human-shaped column in the Garden._

\--------------------------------

A human corporation utterly troublesome, Aziraphale decided. They learned to manipulate the mouth and tongue to speak, though Vahrām was forced to modulate any method of speaking with them; the corporation bled red liquid ( _human blood, Aziraphale_ ) from the ears and required the summoning of a practised healer. The same thing happened thrice more before Vahrām managed to settle on a safe method of communication, but the healer was asked to remain regardless. Throughout the process Vahrām made copious notes to share with the higher choirs and record-keepers, to inform future interactions other angels would potentially have with the humans or with corporations.

Mastering movement took quite a bit longer than the communication centers. Vahrām was of the opinion that the best way to learn was simply to do something, but when the miracled supports holding the corporation upright were removed it abruptly collapsed and, in their surprise, Aziraphale was decorporated from it. _As you can see, the corporation and its associated parts will not function without the angel user,_ Vahrām said as Aziraphale hovered above the corporation, embarrassed but unsure of precisely why. _It is not a truly living thing on its own. If you must decorporate on Earth, do not leave the corporation where it will become damaged. If you are_ dis _corporated, you will return to Heaven and be assessed for a replacement._

On their second attempt Aziraphale managed to re-enter the crumpled corporation and stared up at Vahrām. "Discorporated?" they echoed with the human voice. With some considerable difficulty they managed to arrange the limbs to facilitate their unsteady rise to an upright position. They stumbled, unused to the strange new equilibrium of a physical body, and drew their wings from the aether to provide further balance. The sensation as they passed from their hidden dimension through the physical barrier of the body was uncomfortable but did not damage the corporation. The lower pair automatically folded around the corporation, and Aziraphale gave the upper pair a stretch and several languid beats.

_If the corporation is damaged beyond repair. If it_ dies, Vahrām explained. _Human bodies are delicate. They have no power as angels or, indeed, as demons do. It is possible that they could die. Your corporation can be placed at similar risk._

The entire thing was sounding rather more complicated than Aziraphale had anticipated. 'Protecting and guiding' the humans had seemed a nebulous concept until now; they had not truly considered the potential for very real dangers in Her paradise; in Eden. "Do you expect demons will attack the humans?"

Their unpracticed human eyes could scarcely decipher Vahrām's aura. _Not outright. Too cowardly. But do not underestimate their tactics._ Aziraphale bobbed the corporation's head in agreement. Of course. Eden and the humans had been the crux of Lucifer's rebellion; it stood to reason, now they thought about it, that demons would not give up merely because they were no longer of Heaven. In fact, Aziraphale surmised, it was entirely likely that the demons would have found greater motivation to spoil Her Plan. "I will not fail."

_If you do, it will not be me to whom you answer,_ Vahrām replied dismissively. _Now, you may or may not have noticed certain characteristics of the corporation. The manufactured corporations possess certain human autonomic functions. You will notice it will mimic the action of breathing and human vital signs - the beat of a heart, and such._ Focusing inward Aziraphale realized it was true. They had attributed the strange pulsation in the chest to their essence settling into the confines of the body. Now, however, they realized it originated in one particular organ. _The functions can be deactivated at will,_ Vahrām continued, _but they are recommended settings at least until you have contacted the humans. It remains to be seen how they will react to an angel._ That sounded reasonable; Aziraphale wanted to earn the humans' trust if they were to be a protector and guide. _There are other assorted automatic reflexes and functions associated with the corporation, but you can figure them out as you go._

The corporation's eyes blinked without Aziraphale's input. Ah. That must have been one of them. "Right."

_Your assignment will be at least part trial and error,_ Vahrām said. _Volunteers occupied a corporation very briefly. Too confining._

Aziraphale quelled the question that begged to be asked, but their ophanim longed to rotate anxiously at the thought. How briefly was 'briefly'? Was there danger to Aziraphale occupying the corporation for the duration of their assignment? Desperate to relieve their resurging consternation Aziraphale moved the corporation's hands instead, dispelling the nervous energy through rhythmic wringing and twisting of one by the other. It was no good; as terrible as the answer might be they were desperate for an answer. "Then -"  
  
Following the mishaps that were Vahrām's early attempts to communicate Aziraphale recognised the sudden sensation of the corporation's ear drums bursting, but the voice was substantially more powerful, thundering and shuddering through the whole body. The knees weakened and Aziraphale staggered even as the healer darted forward and encompassed the corporation's head in a cool, tingling embrace, healing the damage. Aziraphale regained their upright position and turned toward the entryway. Gabriel - and it was unmistakably Gabriel, even with the poor human vision - approached ebulliently. _Ah. I do apologise._ Ze modulated hir voice, to Aziraphale's relief. _Ingrained habit._ Ze circled Aziraphale as they recovered _Is that you in there, Aziraphale?_

"Yes, Gabriel." They continued to wring the fingers of one hand between those of the other. Their control on the corporation still felt tenuous at best; Aziraphale's true self tremored minutely in the aftermath of the onslaught of hearing Gabriel's voice in the physical form, and withVahrām's revelation regarding the comparatively 'brief' test periods, but the corporation shivered uncontrollably, its muscles and ligaments painfully taut. Aziraphale washed down the corporation and attempted to relax them manually, as the brain was having none of it. "Taking some getting used to, but nearly there. I do apologise, but what was it you said?"

_I said, 'your reports will be critical to the eventual wider roll-out of the corporations'. You are the first, Aziraphale, but when the humans begin to multiply you will be far from the last! Are you ready?_

The answer was still a 'no', truly, but Aziraphale was eager to see the Garden and also to be in their own company to better acclimate to the corporation without other angels' scrutiny. "I am ready whenever She asks me to go, Archangel."

_Wonderful! You will be deployed shortly; the Almighty wants you down there before Phase 1 begins._ Aziraphale was surprised but not unhappy that they would witness each phase of the final Creation as it began. They had expected to arrive after the humans had been placed in Eden, but the revelation was the promise of time to their self before the Plan truly got under way. Eagerness stirred beneath the uncertainty as they reviewed what they already knew about Earth. Seeing the _animals_ She had discussed with them remained the most exciting thing. It seemed so far away now, that conversation in the grove; Aziraphale wondered if the first strange, ice-breaker designs had made the cut.

_Why are you doing that?_

"I'm sorry?" Gabriel gestured to their hands, and Aziraphale realized they were still clutching them together. They cast about for an explanation. "Just a...side-effect, I expect, of containment in a physical form."

_Well...could you stop?_ Chastised, Aziraphale forced the hands apart and stilled them at their sides with effort. _Much better!_ Gabriel said cheerfully. _I would try not to do that if I were you, Aziraphale. You are a soldier! You are confident! You do not want the humans second-guessing the effectiveness of their guardian, do you?_

"Of course not." Aziraphale bristled at the description of them as a 'soldier', but did not correct the Archangel. They were an adviser. They had even been a record-keeper longer than their mandatory duty as a soldier. But if any Seraph had a favourable view of them they were not inclined to try and change their mind. "I will be mindful of the corporation's reactions. I will not disappoint Heaven, or the humans."

_I know it!_ Gabriel nudgedVahrām, who glided away under the pretense of dismissing the healer. _I think you would be more effective in your true form than a corporation, but what do I know? You can't question ineffability; that's what I always say!Vahrām, are you finished here?_

_We are,_ Vahrām confirmed and, to Aziraphale, added, _Do not forget the reports_.

_You forget to whom you are speaking,_ Gabriel replied before Aziraphale could acknowledge the reminder; hir tone was cool and even, and Vahrām visibly registered the change. _Have you any reason to doubt Aziraphale's competence?_

Even via the comparatively inconvenient human senses Aziraphale felt the change in Vahrām's demeanor and, not for the first time, marvelled at Gabriel's power. Hir frequently affable, approachable mien could vanish and turn to a dangerous edge ze wielded with stunning efficacy. Now Vahrām assumed a contrite position, gaze directed at the feet of Aziraphale's corporation. _Of course not. I offer my sincerest apologies, Aziraphale._

Uncomfortable with the display of submission Aziraphale fought the instinct to wring the hands again, instead waving them impotently. "Accepted. Think no more of it, Vahrām - and you shall have you reports."

_Shall we?_ The cheer returned to Gabriel's voice. Extending hir aura to encompass Aziraphale, Gabriel ushered them from the workroom. Upon leaving Vahrām behind and passing through the stoae the Archangel added, not unkindly, _You should assert yourself more, Aziraphale!Vahrām has an inflated sense of zir own importance; the disrespect zie showed you should not stand. Shall I refer zir to Raguel?_

"Thank you, Gabriel, but that is unnecessary."

_If you insist. You know, I was somewhat concerned when She informed the Archangels that you were Her chosen guardian. Especially after the whole business with you leaving your unit in the middle of the conflict and following that Fallen Cherub._

Distracted by the strange looks they were receiving from other angels as they struggled to keep pace with Gabriel, Aziraphale nearly missed a step and sent the corporation sprawling face-first into the ground. All at once they were thrown back into that horrible moment on the staircase and Gabriel's suspicious line of questioning which had ensued. "Gabriel, Archangel, I -"

The Archangel waved them off. _No need to explain. An error of judgement, perhaps, and no more. She has confidence in you, and therefore so do I!_

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked weakly. _Indeed! You are to be commended for this. Taking on a corporation long-term, with no prior experience? Admirable! Anyway,_ Gabriel pressed on as Aziraphale followed hir into the forum, _a few details to pass on before you are deployed. Things are going to look a little empty when you first arrive, but when the six phases are rolled out it will pick up quickly. You will not need to concern yourself with passing on rules and regulations - the Almighty will take care of that. Your role will be to ensure they are being followed._ Aziraphale made a noise they hoped was agreement; that much, at least, had already been made clear. _The rules are simple: the humans are not to eat of the Trees of Knowledge or of Life._

Still feeling slightly off-balance by the whiplash which was the revival of mortifiying memory and affirmation of Gabriel's confidence in them, Aziraphale waited for the Archangel to go on but. When no more seemed forthcoming they ventured to ask, "Is there anything else?"

_Is that not enough? They are being tested, Aziraphale. With your help they will resist the temptation to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. That one is key. Should they pass the test, they will be rewarded._

One tree in a garden rich and lush with countless others? Aziraphale's spirits began to lift once more; they could see no way the task could fail. They would ensure the humans followed Her rules and behaved as expected, and soon they would be at Her side again. "You can depend on me, Archangel."

_That is what I like to hear! Any pressing issues before we get you down there and acclimated?_

"Nothing," Aziraphale returned confidently. 

_Wonderful. I shall accompany you down, then; show you around, point out the Trees. But then it will be up to you._ Without waiting for their response Gabriel wrapped a tendril around one of the corporation's upper arms, and in a thunderous reverberation of electricity the familiarity of Heaven vanished from around them and in its place appeared something wondrous in its novelty.

Aziraphale hardly registered their new surroundings. Upon arrival in a verdant sea they were assaulted by an absolute void of sensation and, powerless against the buckling of the corporation's legs, collapsed to the fragrant, spongy ground.


End file.
